


You Get What You Need

by RebaK1tten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Anal Sex, Animal Death, Bad Deaton, Cute Kids, Eichen | Echo House, Emissary in Training Stiles Stilinski, Everyone Is Alive, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Masturbation, Original Characters - Freeform, Peter is a shit, Post Mpreg, Raising the Dead, Sheriff's name is Andrew, Stiles is 17 at the start, Stiles is kinda shitty too, Stiles turns 18, full wolf shifts, minor Derek/Braeden, minor agender character, minor allison/lydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 51,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3207503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Peter are accidentally mated and eventually learn to make it work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I think this is going to go kind of dark, warnings and tags will be updated as I go along. If you see anything that you think should be tagged, please let me know!
> 
> I do not give permission for any of my works, including this one, to be posted to other sites. This includes, but is not limited to GoodReads.

“I cannot believe those wolves were serious,” Isaac says, throwing himself down on the couch in Derek’s loft.

“No kidding,” Kira says, grinning as she settles down on the floor by Scott’s feet. “Like we were going to give them Stiles just because they say they need an emissary.”

“I like they thought we’d sell him.” Scott chuckles and rubs Stiles’ head. “Maybe we should have considered that.”

Stiles looks up from where his head is buried in a bag of tortilla chips. “I’m just happy you got rid of them. And kinda surprised that Peter’s little trick worked.”

Derek scowls as he looks at his uncle and asks, “Did you know that they’d back down if you said you were mates?”

“I was hoping they would,” Peter says, shrugging. “I thought at least it would buy us some time. I didn’t like the way their alpha was looking at our pack mate.”

“It did throw them off,” Scott agrees, grabbing some chips from the bag. “But you know if you thought that would work, you could have let someone else say they’re Stiles’ mate. Maybe someone more appropriate?”

Peter sits on the staircase and looks at the group. “You smell too much like Kira. You all smell of your partners. And since Stiles was wearing my jacket, I took a shot.”

“And then they said you don’t smell like mates and you said it’s because you’re not savages and you shower,” Isaac laughs. “I guess it was lucky you made him put your jacket on.”

Peter smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Well my thought there was simply that he’d have a little bit of protection if they decided to throw him around.”

“So of course he runs into a tree,” Derek mutters, holding Stiles by the chin so he can look at the scratch down his cheek.

“Hey, I’m less injured than I usually am. And who put all those trees in the preserve anyway? But really, I’m thrilled that I was included in the not-savages part,” Stiles says, toasting Peter with a chip. “And I’m happy that you didn’t sell me, I was kind of worried for a minute.”

Peter grins and says, “If I was going to try to sell you, I’d put an ad on Craig’s List – slightly used, partially trained emissary. Not just let you go to the first pack of wolves that shows up.”

Scott’s phone rings and he puts it on speaker after checking the caller. “Hey, Erica, everything okay?”

“You bet, boss,” she says. “We got them to the city limits and said adios. We’re on our way back, with a couple of pizzas and stuff.”

“Garlic bread?” Stiles yells, spraying a mouthful of chips. “Did you get the garlic cheese bread?”

“Enough for everyone,” Boyd answers. “Need to, can’t let you stink by yourself.”

Allison’s voice comes over the phone, saying, “And just a couple of other things. Saving our junior emissary makes people hungry!”

“Just get back safely,” Scott says and when he hears the chorus of “yes, alpha!” he hangs up and grins at his pack.

 

The impromptu party is just what the group needs, after the week of worrying about the strange pack roaming around their territory. There’s a stupid movie on the TV in the background and everyone’s relaxed and working their way through boxes of pizza, salads and two-liter bottles of soda.

Derek and Peter both have bottles of beer and Derek, at least, tries to keep an eye on his to be sure the minors don’t steal it. Peter’s less concerned with anyone’s age, just grumbling when he finds his bottle missing.

“Congrats, you guys,” Erica shouts, raising her glass. “Never thought you’d be the first officially mated pair in the pack, Stilinski!”

Scott raises his glass and grins, “Yeah, congratulations, bud. You could have told me, you know I’d support whatever bad choice you make.”

Stiles clinks their glasses together and raises his glass to the room, “Yup, yeah me. Or yeah us. Right, sweetie pie?”

“I’ve never been so happy,” Peter replies dryly, looking up briefly from his magazine, and taking a drink of his beer.

“Mazel tov,” Lydia says, with both her glass and eyebrow raised. “And people say I’ve made bad choices.”

“You dated a lizard, I’m mated to a zombie. Not sure who wins,” Stiles replies, grinning at the banshee.

“Hey, at least Stiles won’t be complaining so much now that he’s getting the D,” Allison answers with a giggle, burying her head in Isaac’s shoulder while he makes a face.

This make Peter perk up, looking around the room. “Oh, I guess that is on the table, isn’t it? Especially since they pointed out we don’t smell like mates. We should remedy that before some other pack comes in to test us.”

“Still creepy after all these years,” Stiles mutters, getting up to go into the kitchen for more food. He fills his plate and when he turns around, Peter’s behind him, standing quietly. “Dammit, Peter, is that necessary?” Stiles manages to put his glass on the counter without spilling it.

“You could be a little more thankful, boy. There’s no telling what that alpha expected of you.”

Stiles puts more food on his plate and pulls another beer out of the fridge, pushing it towards Peter. “Yeah, thanks, I thought I said that. Repeatedly. At least with this pack, I know what creepiness to expect.”

“You did look and smell very nice wearing my jacket.”

“Drink your beer, Peter, and quit being so… Petery.” Before Peter is able to reply, Stiles pushes a piece of cheese bread into his mouth and says, “Did you try this? Their garlic cheese knots? I love these things.”

Peter rolls his eyes as he chews and swallows, licking the oil off his lips. “There are days when I wonder why I didn’t kill you, Stiles.”

“I’m frigging adorable, asshole. That and everyone else would kill you.” He pulls a pink bakery box off the top of the fridge, setting it on the counter. “Hey, what’s in here?”

Erica bounces into the kitchen, saying, “Dessert! Obviously they didn’t have time to make a wedding cake, but we got Mexican wedding cookies! Eat up!” She grabs the box and a handful of napkins, heading back into the living room where the wolves fall on her much like a pack of wolves.

 

They hang out for another hour or so, something they haven’t been able to do recently. It’s a few months until graduation and everyone’s been busy studying and getting ready to go to college in the fall, so with the latest crisis averted, this is a good time to relax. There’s a ton of food, and a few drinks sipped in stealth that only increase the jokes about the pretend mates. Thanks to Erica’s (and surprisingly Kira’s) lewd sense of humor, it turns pretty raunchy and Stiles is glad when it’s time to take his blush and leave. The day has caught up to him and Scott offers to drive him home since both stress and the couple of bottles of beer he’s had don’t affect him as they do the human.

“You okay?” Scott asks, as he helps Stiles into his jeep. He took the keys earlier in the evening, telling his best friend he’s not driving tonight after the day he had.

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles responds, rubbing his chest. “Just kind of tired. Little heartburn -- I guess I may have had too much pizza.”

Scott grins and turns on the car, heading back towards the suburbs where they both live “That’s what happens when you get old. Heartburn and tired. Probably hemorrhoids, too.”

“There’s been way too much talk about my ass tonight. But I am tired,” Stiles says, leaning against the head rest and shutting his eyes. “Let me know when we’re home, okay?”

“Sure, buddy,” Scott replies, giving Stiles’ knee a quick squeeze. “I’ll even pour you into your bed.”

“Not that drunk, just tired.” The car feels like it’s spinning a little, much more than it should be, he may have had one whole beer over the course of the day. “Maybe nearly getting kidnapped by a strange wolf-pack is more stressful than I originally thought.”

Stiles doesn’t remember falling asleep and startles when Scott shakes him gently awake. “Wake up bro, we’re home,” Scott whispers. “You’re home,” he amends. He studies Stiles for a moment, watching his eyes slowly focus. “Do you need help getting in the house?”

“No, I’m okay, I guess I just fell asleep real hard,” Stiles answers. He rubs his chest and moves to leave the car, when Scott pulls him back.

“Hey, call me tomorrow, okay and I’ll get the jeep back to you. And just so you know, we’d never let you get kidnapped by wolves or anyone else. If Peter’s plan hadn’t’ve worked, we’d have done something else.” Scott gives his lopsided grin and says, “You’re not getting out of here that easily.”

“Yeah, Scotty, I know, you guys got my back,” Stiles answers and gives Scott a one-armed hug before he stumbles out of the car.

 

In his room, Stiles strips down and tosses his clothes in the hamper and looks at the scratch on his cheek.  Not bad, he’s certainly had a lot worse. Maybe he’s coming down with something, he thinks, scrubbing at his eyes where the headache’s gathering. He opens the window for some air and lies down, hand on his chest, trying to catch his breath and wondering what this new shit storm is in Beacon Hills.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack visits Deaton to try to find out what happened.

The bed is so warm and cozy and there’s nothing Stiles would rather do than sleep. Except there’s an annoying noise coming from the foot of his bed that doesn’t seem to want to stop. He opens an eye and sees his father staring at him, worry on his face.

“Stiles. Stiles? Are you okay?”

“Hmm, yeah, sleeping. What’s up?” he answers wiggling further under the covers. He can't be _that_ worried.

“Who is that? It’s not Derek, is it? Is that Scott?”

It’s a strange question and makes no sense, but Stiles hears a note of concern in his father’s voice, so he sits up a little, and realizes he’s not quite pinned to the bed by a gray and white wolf. The wolf has his head on Stiles’ leg and slowly opens his blue eyes looking up at Stiles. “No, this isn’t Derek. And Scott doesn’t shift like this.” Stiles looks at the wolf who stretches and nuzzles his leg. “Peter? Is that you?”

The wolf yawns, showing lots of sharp teeth, and then quickly shifts into Peter, who ends up sitting cross-legged on Stiles’ bed. “Good morning, Stiles. Sheriff.”

“Dude, you’re naked!” Stiles exclaims, holding his pillow in front of him and turning his head away.

“Sorry, Stiles, I didn’t think to bring my wolf-appropriate pajamas,” Peter says, grabbing the pillow and putting it on his lap as he moves to the edge of the bed.

Stiles reaches for his pillow, stopping before he grabs it. “Man, now it’s all…what is _wrong_ with you?”

“And more importantly, why are you in my son’s room?” Andrew asks, with his eyebrow raised enough to make a Hale proud.

“There was a slight … incident yesterday. It was suggested that I check on Stiles and make sure he’s okay.” Peter studies Stiles in a way that makes the younger man twitch.

“I’m fine,” he says firmly and looks at his dad, who is in the doorway, silently looking at them both. “Really, Dad, I’m fine. Nothing major happened at all.”

“You have a cut on your face,” Andrew says, gesturing to his own cheek.

“Little scratch, that’s all.” He turns to Peter, and says, “That’s all, I’m fine.”

“Good. No pains or discomfort?”

Stiles thinks back to how odd he felt last night, but right now, he feels okay. Who knew werewolves were the secret to a good night’s sleep. “I’m good. I was tired last night, but I’m fine now.”

“That’s good, very good,” Peter answers, nodding. He stands, handing the pillow back to Stiles who squawks and looks away. “Don’t forget what we talked about; we’re meeting at Deaton’s at nine this morning. Please don’t be late.” With that comment, he shifts back to his wolf form and uses his nose and a paw to open the bedroom window. Then he’s gone without another sound.

“You sure you’re okay, son?” Andrew asks, shutting and locking the window after a quick glance outside. “What’s going on at Deaton’s?”

“Oh, just some research stuff we’re working on,” Stiles answers quickly. “Nothing big or dangerous.”

Andrew studies him for a long minute, in the way that Stiles hates. A suspicious look that reminds him of when he really was hiding things from his father. “Okay, I should be home for dinner; maybe we can order in?”

Stiles rolls out of bed and pulls on yesterday’s clothes. “Sure. But that doesn’t mean double-meat pizza!”

“We’ll see,” Andrew says, turning to walk out of the room. “Call me later, okay? Just to let me know things are okay with your Deaton stuff?”

“It’s nothing, Dad, I promise,” Stiles sighs, and rubs his chest where the burning is back. Probably too much coffee or stress or something. No biggie, he thinks, shoving his phone into his pocket along with his keys as he grabs a granola bar for breakfast before his unannounced meeting at Deaton’s. Unless it really is a biggie, says the annoying voice in the back of his head.

 

He’s not the first one at Deaton’s; Scott’s motorcycle is there, along with Derek’s mom-van, and Peter’s pretentious Mercedes.

“Stiles, come in, sit down.” Deaton smiles and gestures to a stool against the wall. The rest of the pack is there, but only Scott looks really worried, bless his heart. Everyone else ranges from disinterested to mildly curious.

“How are you feeling, Stiles? Does your chest still hurt?” Scott asks, taking his arm and attempting to help him sit.

“I’m fine,” Stiles says, patting Scott’s hand and settling on a stool next to Peter. “What’s going on, Peter said I had to be here.”

“Scott said that you weren’t feeling well when he drove you home last night. And when I was outside your house, I knew that you had a headache. I did, too.” Peter shrugs and looks down. “I thought we should check to be sure the pack that was in town didn’t somehow infect us or leave a spell or something.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened yesterday?” Deaton asks, leaning on the counter across from Stiles. “Scott, would you begin?”

Scott quickly runs through the events of the last week and tells Deaton about the near-fight with the invading wolf-pack and then their lunch yesterday. The other pack members interject with information that may or may not be relevant. It’s hard to tell what makes a difference when you’re talking magic.

Deaton shows no expression through the recitation, just nodding occasionally to show that he’s listening. At the end, he looks at the pack and says, “Peter, you and Stiles both told the pack of your intent to be mates?”

“No, not exactly,” Peter says. “We told the other pack that we _are_ mates. It was so they’d understand that they couldn’t take Stiles to be their emissary. That we have a claim.”

“Hmm, okay, I think I have an idea what’s happening. You’ve started a mating bond.”

“What?” Stiles stands and turns to Peter. “You did what?”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Alan,” Peter states flatly. “You can’t just decide to create a mating bond.”

“No, there’s several parts to it. Let me get something,” he says and when he returns to the room a minute later, he’s paging through an old leather-bound book. “Okay, let’s see what’s here…” he says and reads quietly for a moment. “Yes, I think you started a bond. Remember, Stiles is training to be an emissary and has a strong magic spark. That and statements from a born wolf hold a lot of weight in a magical world.”

“What do we do to stop it?” Scott asks, rubbing Stiles’ back while he glares at Peter.

“I think you’ll need to keep away from each other, although it’ll be uncomfortable. State that you don’t want to be mates and you reject the bond,” Deaton says, head bowed over the book.

The pack sighs in relief and Derek says, “That almost sounds too easy.”

“Well, it’s just the first level of the bond that was activated. If you had started the second part, where the pack all acknowledges and accepts the bond, you’d probably have more problems.”

Everyone in the room looks around and finally Erica says, “Umm, what would be needed to be to start the second level? Let’s say we had a little party afterwards and toasted the happy couple, would that be a problem?”

Deaton sighs and shuts his eyes before answering, “Yes, Erica, that would be the pack accepting the newly mated couple. That would be the second part of the bond.” He turns and looks at Peter. “You’re a born wolf, you didn’t know any of this?”

“Why would I?” Peter exclaims, and the surprise in his voice tells the other wolves that he’s not lying – or he’s very good at it. “I’ve seen mating ceremonies, Alan. I was at Talia’s ceremony in the preserve; my father, our alpha blessed their union and they gave each other the mating bite. I know how mating works, how the bond is done. My wife and I were…” he stops, shaking his head and turns away to look out the window.

Derek puts a hand on his shoulder, pain evident in his face. Stiles looks down and rubs his chest and asks, “Okay, our bad. What do we do, how do we break this, Deaton?”

“Well, Peter’s right,” Deaton says with a sigh. “Mating ceremonies now are more like a traditional human wedding ceremony. The rites you started were used a hundred-plus years ago, often when packs were hiding and there was no time for a more elaborate celebration.” He pages through the book and looks up at the group. “Next would be the couple showing they can provide for each other. Usually that would be as part of a hunt - providing food for each other. You mentioned eating before you all went home?”

Allison clears her throat and says, “Yeah, um…Peter actually paid for the lunch, does that count?”

“How did I do that? Why would I do that, I don’t even like you people,” he says, glaring at Allison.

“The woman at the restaurant asked for a credit card and we said to put on the Hale account. She looked in her system and asked ‘Peter Hale?’ so we said yes.” Erica shrugs and steps back into Boyd’s arms as Peter glares at her.

“Okay, so Peter provided for his chosen mate.” Deaton turns to Stiles, who is rocking on his stool, with Scott rubbing his back. “Did you provide anything for Peter? Beverage or food?”

“You gave him a beer from the fridge,” Isaac says, pointing between the two of them.

“I paid for the beer, all he did was hand it to Peter. That can’t count,” Derek says, looking to Deaton.

“I wouldn’t think so. Was there anything else?”

“Peter gave you his jacket to wear in the fight. Would that be something?” Lydia asks.

“Maybe,” Deaton says, reading more in the book. “It is providing protection, but again, that’s from Peter to Stiles. Is that all?”

Peter groans and his head hits the wall behind him. “We were in the kitchen and you made me eat part of your breadstick.”

“Cheesy garlic knot,” Stiles exclaims. “It was a cheesy garlic knot. I just gave you a taste, that can’t count! It’s not like I was ‘providing’ for you.”

Deaton shakes his head and rubs his eyes, sighing. “You had bread, the staff of life, and you hand fed it to Peter?”

“It was a bite, just a bite!”

“Stiles,” Deaton says patiently, as though to a small, stupid child. “You’re training to be an emissary and you’ll be a very powerful one. What you did was…it’s like the minister at a wedding hand feeding wedding cake to the bride and groom. It’s a very powerful message regarding your intent.”

Everyone just looks at each other, slumped in their seats, suddenly exhausted.

“Anything else? And how do we un-do it?” Peter asks as he rubs his chin.

“The bond doesn’t appear to be complete. If it were, you wouldn’t be in pain and … well you probably wouldn’t want to be spending time with others right now. At the initial stages, the bond is very strong and the new mates want to be alone together.”

Stiles looks down as Scott grimaces. “Okay, bond not complete, great. How do we break it?” Stiles asks.

“The next step would be consummating the union. Which would mean exchanging bodily fluids. I’m assuming you didn’t do that?” Deaton asks, looking up from the next page of the book.

“God, no! No, really I would remember that, I’m sure,” Stiles says, arms crossed over his chest.

“You certainly would,” Peter purrs, earning him a snarl from Scott and a smirk from Erica.

“Well, wait a minute,” Boyd says slowly. Erica moves out of his arms to stand next to him, waiting for him to continue. “You did get that cut on your cheek when we were outside with the other wolves. And Peter came up to you and did that mom-thing to wipe off the blood?” He licks his thumb and gestures wiping it across Erica’s cheek. “Would that do it?”

“Blood is certainly an important thing in any ritual, probably the strongest element in most spells,” Deaton answers. “Did you taste the blood, Peter?”

“No, definitely not,” he says, shaking his head.

Everyone looks over at him, Derek with an eyebrow raised. “Did you?” he asks.

“Well, not intentionally,” Peter says, shrugging. “But I don’t have an aversion to blood, and I’m not sorry.”

Stiles isn’t the only one who grimaces. “Ew, sicko.”

Isaac grins and says, “You shouldn’t talk to your mate that way.”

“Okay, possibly,” Deaton says. “Stiles, think – anything else that might have happened? Anything?”

Stiles shakes his head and says, “I don’t think so, no.”

“You were drinking his beers all evening. Sharing bottles with him, would that be it?” Isaac asks Deaton. “Swapping spit?”

“Maybe. Between the two things it’s possibly enough to make the bond stronger. Not complete, but close.”

Peter sighs and leans forward, fingers steepled together. “So the question is - how do we undo this?”

Deaton looks at the book again, using a piece of paper to mark his page before he shuts it. “You declared yourselves to be mates. You received approval from your pack. You provided food for each other. All that’s left is consummating the relationship. That and the mating bite, if you choose to.”

Stiles stands and shakes his head, moving towards Deaton. Derek reaches out and puts a hand on his arm, and Stiles pulls away when the pain in his chest flares. “What can we do, Deaton? I can’t be werewolf married, I’m 17. What do we do to make this go away?”

Deaton shakes his head and says, “Stiles, I’m sorry. I’m not sure how we make this go away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to update about every other week. Come say hello on Tumblr at Rebakitt3n.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to find a way to stop the bond. And dinner with Dad.

The pack gathers back at Derek’s loft, spreading out several old books that Deaton gave them on his dining room table.

Allison smiles wanly and gives Stiles’ shoulder a quick squeeze. “We’ll figure out something, Stiles. If there’s nothing in here, I’ll see if my dad has any other books with werewolf lore.”

“Just don’t tell him what’s going on, okay? I really don’t want to discuss this with anyone outside the pack,” Stiles tells her, slumping into a chair and pulling one of the books towards him.

“No, of course not. Where’s Peter, by the way?”

A quick glance shows that he didn’t return with everyone else and Derek sighs loudly. “I’m sure he’ll be here in a minute. He may have just needed a couple of minutes to himself.”

“He did seem as freaked out as you, Stiles. I think that’s good, right? Means he wants to find the cure or whatever it is, too.” Erica wraps Stiles into a hug and kisses his cheek.  

“I leave you alone for ten minutes and you’re in another’s arms,” Peter says, entering the loft with a coffee in each hand. He hands one to Stiles, saying, “Thought you might need this so you’re alert to review the books.”

Isaac raises an eyebrow and looks at Stiles, who is eyeing his coffee. “No coffee for anyone else?”

“Oh, dear, I must have forgotten,” Peter says and sits at the table, coffee at his side. “Stiles, the coffee is perfectly safe and how you like it, so sit down and start reading. And I think Derek has a coffee maker, the rest of you, help yourselves.”

“I’ll put on a pot,” Boyd says, moving into the kitchen.

“You didn’t poison this?” Stiles asks, sniffing the coffee. “Or put any bodily fluids in it?”

Peter doesn’t bother to look up when he answers, “If I’m sharing bodily fluids, I’ll do it the old fashioned way.”

“Someone, please find a way out of this,” Stiles mutters, opening a book and diving in.

 

“There’s nothing helpful in here!” Stiles exclaims, slamming the book shut. No one bothers telling him to be gentle with the old books; after all, he ignored them the first dozen times.

“We found a few helpful things.” Lydia has one of the books open and is copying information from the book to her laptop. “There’s interesting stuff about mates and mating bonds. We can always use this information for others in the pack.”

“Great, yeah, it’ll help Scott sometime in the future. It doesn’t help me now. And besides, I read most of this stuff over the summer.”

“You did?” Lydia asks. Her voice has that edge that Stiles loves hearing other people get hit with but dreads when it’s turned to him.

“Yeah. You know Deaton’s had me studying and I’ve borrowed some of Peter’s books, too. I’ve studied this stuff more than SAT prep,” he grumbles and pulls over another book. “Hey, did you find anything? Anyone? Peter?”

Peter comes over, rubbing his eyes and leans on the wall across from the sofa. “Nothing helpful, I’m sure. Just some lovely stories of couples who were mated and kept apart for some reason. An alpha of one pack who chose an emissary from another pack. The emissary’s alpha didn’t want to let her go and locked them up separately. Eventually, they ended up being driven insane and ripping themselves apart.”

“Great story, thanks Peter!” Erica crows, perching on the arm of the sofa next to Stiles. “So, I found out…umm… the bond will make you both stronger, that’s good, right? When an emissary is mated to a member of the pack, they’re stronger and can feel the pack bond more. And they kind of balance each other out, which would be good, right?”

Stiles snorts and shakes his head, flipping through the book in front of him. “Yeah, that’s great, Erica, assuming we’re keeping the bond. We’re trying to break it, remember?”

“Just trying to find out anything we can about it,” Boyd says from his place at the dining room table. “Thought it would be important, just in case. Knowing Uncle Peter’s going to be stronger might be important. And maybe slightly saner.”

“There is no ‘just in case’ Boyd,” Stiles says. “We’re breaking this. Keep reading.”

“Have you found anything that makes you think you can?” Peter asks gently. “All I’ve found is stories of mated couples who try to fight the bond, either because they didn’t want it or they’re forced apart by an outside source. None of them end happily. A lot of insanity and bloodshed. The longer they’re kept apart, the more violent any eventual mating is.”

Stiles shoves the book away and approaches Peter, getting into his face. “So you’re giving up? You want to be mated to me, Peter?”

Peter sniffs quietly and runs his hand down Stiles’ arm before he says, “Not particularly, no. But I’m also a realist and intend to be one step ahead. I did bring myself back from the dead, that wasn’t a lucky accident.” He pokes Stiles on the nose and walks away saying, “Planning, boy, careful planning.”

“First thing I’ll do if I’m stronger is put you back in your grave. And don’t call me Boy.”

Lydia shakes her head and mutters, “Not a good idea, Stiles, although I certainly understand the sentiment. When a bond is complete, and a couple is joined, pain to one of the partners is felt by the other. Not completely, it’s not like you’d feel his broken leg in your leg, but you’d feel that he’s in pain.  And if you’re angry, he’ll feel that as well.”

“All interesting, but doesn’t say how to break it,” Stiles says, flopping down on the couch. He picks up another book and opens it to a section that Deaton had marked.

The pack looks at each other over Stiles’ head. Derek raises an eyebrow and opens one of the books that Allison brought over. Her father’s library has some of the same books that Deaton has, some duplication of Peter’s information, but has some new items that might be helpful.

Everyone goes back to their research, trying to find some way to sever the mating bond.

 

A couple of hours later, Scott looks at his phone and jumps up, grabbing for his jacket and keys. “Dude, I’m sorry, but I gotta go. I told my mom I’d bring her dinner and I’m already running late.” He looks between Stiles and Peter and says, “Just… keep looking and don’t do anything inappropriate tonight.” He gives Stiles a weak smile and heads out the door.

“Thanks, man, very helpful,” Stiles yawns. “Actually, I need to get home, too, I told my dad I’d have dinner with him. And I need to explain why Peter was sleeping on my bed last night. And explain why we had to go to Deaton’s. And I don’t know, do I tell him anything about this?”

“Peter slept with you last night?” Derek asks, glaring as he steps towards his uncle, who just folds his arms across his chest and stares back.

“Yes, I slept on his bed, fully shifted. It was the only thing that helped my headache, and I think it helped Stiles as well.” Peter turns to Stiles, picking up his laptop along with a couple of the books. “Shall we go?”

Stiles shrugs. “You can go wherever you want, as long as it’s not with me. I’ll read some more tonight, you do the same. I’ll ask Scott to call Deaton and get an update later tonight.”

“I think you’re forgetting that we both get sick when we’re not together. And from what we’ve read it’s not going to get easier tonight or tomorrow. So my suggestion is we both go to your house and I’ll read in your room while you play good son to your father.”

“And he’s not going to know you’re upstairs? Or not notice when you spend the night?”

Peter sighs and rolls his eyes. “Make something up, you do that well. Or be honest with him now and tell him what happened and that we’re trying to undo this.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna go over well.” Stiles says, and sighs. “Come on, wolf, let’s go and have dinner with my dad.  I’ll order pizza, that’ll cheer him up.”

“Extra meat, please,” Peter says, moving past him to exit the loft.

 

“Hey, Dad, I brought the pizza,” Stiles calls as he enters the house, boxes leading the way.

His father calls from the kitchen, “Thanks, kid, I was starting to get a little worried and…”

“Sheriff, nice to see you.” Peter smiles, setting the books and laptops on the dining room table.

“Hale. Is there an explanation you want to try, Stiles?”

Stiles carries the pizza, saying, “Let’s eat and we’ll explain. Peter, get out plates and stuff, please.”

Peter moves past the Sheriff into the kitchen and opens drawers until he finds silverware. He turns to Stiles and asks, “Plates are where?”

“Silverware? It’s pizza.” He points to a cabinet and says, “Paper plates are there.”

It’s Peter’s turn to sigh and he gathers everything and carries it to the table, putting out three place settings, including cloth napkins he found in the back of a drawer.

They sit at the table and grab slices of pizza, passing the packets of extra cheese and peppers. “Well, isn’t this nice?” Andrew says in a voice that indicates this is anything except nice. “So you’ll tell me what’s going on?” he says, biting into his slice of extra meat.

“Sure,” Stiles says, swallowing loudly. “Let’s see, where to begin…” He looks over at Peter and shrugs. Peter cocks an eyebrow and goes back to eating his slice of pesto chicken pizza with a fork and knife. Stiles wants to punch him.

Peter stops eating and looks at Andrew. “A small pack of wolves from Washington came here and they were looking to add to their pack.  They thought they could take Stiles with them, as he’s training to be an emissary, and they need one.  We were able to get rid of them, but unfortunately, we started a spell that created a bond between us. We’re trying to figure out how to get rid of it.” He picks up his fork and calmly goes back to eating, pulling a slice of the meat pizza on his plate.

“Wow,” Andrew says, wiping his mouth with the napkin. “When did all this happen? Why didn’t you say something?” he asks Stiles.

“It just happened over the last couple of days,” Stiles answers. “I didn’t say anything about the other pack because we were getting rid of them and … Dad, werewolves. We didn’t want you in danger when we knew we were getting rid of them.”

“And this bonding spell, what does it do? Bonding sounds serious.”

Stiles gives himself time by shoving half a slice of pizza into his mouth, and glances over to Peter who is intent on ignoring their family drama. “Well…for now it means that Peter and I are kind of bonded and that means that we kind of need to be close to each other or it’s kind of physically painful and…”

“Painful? You’re in pain?” Andrew asks, putting a hand on Stiles’ arm and glaring at Peter.

“No, not now,” Stiles assures him. “It’s if we’re not in the same room, it’s kind of head-achy and hard to breathe. So that’s why he’s here. And we’re researching how to break the mating bond.”

“Mating bond? Mating bond?” Andrew starts to rise from his chair, looking over at Peter.

“Yes, it was to save your son from being kidnapped by the other wolves. And it worked. He’s here and he’s fine,” Peter says, eyes flashing blue.

“Hey, none of that, stop it, both of you,” Stiles says, reaching a hand out towards both his father and Peter.

“So what is this mating bond? Is it what it sounds like?” Andrew stabs another slice of pizza with his fork to drag it to his plate, while Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Mates are werewolves’ life partners or you may think of them as spouses. But it’s a bit more intense than human partners as we really do mate for life,” Peter tells him, gently placing his silverware next to his plate. “If a wolf loses a partner, it’s devastating. It can drive them feral.”

Stiles looks over at Peter and without thinking about it, pats the back of his hand. When he looks up, his father is looking at the two them, face between alarm and anger.

“So, you’re trying to break this bond that’s started? How about it I break it? Chris Argent gave me a clip of wolfsbane bullets, I could just shoot Peter.” His smile doesn’t match his words and certainly doesn’t reach his eyes.

Peter’s smile is equally tight-lipped as he replies, “I know you enjoy pointing guns at me, Sheriff, but in this case, if you hurt me, you’ll hurt Stiles as well. As Stiles said earlier, it’s uncomfortable if we’re not in the same room. If you were able to kill me – and I would defend myself – he may end up suicidal or homicidal. Hard to tell, really.” Peter looks over at him, studying him with his head cocked.

“Yeah, and it’s not a complete bond yet, we’re still working on undoing it, so let’s not kill anyone, okay?” Stiles gets up and stacks everything from their dinner to take into the kitchen.

“You were at Deaton’s this morning; wasn’t he any help?” Andrew says, running a hand through his hair.

“He gave us some books to look through, that’s what we’ve been doing, and we have more to read through tonight,” Stiles calls back from the kitchen.

“Derek spoke with him this afternoon. He has a few contacts he’s talking with to see if they have any ideas.  He’ll get back to us tomorrow,” Peter says. He finishes his water and carries the empty glasses into the kitchen.

Andrew is in the doorway immediately after him, watching them easily move around each other, putting dishes in the sink and wrapping the leftover pizza to put in the fridge.

“Okay, I’ll finish in here,” Andrew says and points to the living room. “You two, in there and find something to undo this in all those books you brought over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter gets a little more action, promise.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the bond strengthens, Peter and Stiles realize there isn't a way to reverse it.

_It’s a dream._ Stiles knows that. It’s one of those times when he’s aware he’s dreaming, the way you do sometimes.

He recognizes that he’s in the preserve, running. It feels like he’s running to stay safe, like there’s something chasing him. He runs past the Hale house, with no time to stop and look at the damage from the fire.

He’s barefoot, wearing a t-shirt and khakis but he’s not cold, and he can feel the rocks under his feet. He pushes at the branches that swing into his face, glancing over his shoulder as he runs.

There’s noises around him – footsteps and branches breaking, heavy breathing from whoever else is running with/after him and snarls. He would be scared, but still, it’s a dream. Right?

He reaches a clearing and takes a second to look around and determine where to go next. It’s a second too long. He’s knocked to ground, face smashing into the dirt, air knocked out of his lungs. He tries to get his breath back, while attempting to knock off whatever’s on his back.

Of course it’s Peter, he expects that. Peter flips him on his back, lying on top of him, holding Stiles down by his shoulders. He’s wearing only his jeans and rips off Stiles’ shirt, reaching between them to push down both of their pants.

Then they’re naked, and Stiles clings to Peter’s back, both thrusting against each other. He opens his eyes and they’re surrounded by the rest of the pack, everyone cheering them on. Erica’s kneeling by their heads, hands covered in sugar, smiling and eating one of the cookies they had the other day from the Italian restaurant. Boyd’s hand is on her shoulder and he’s nodding at Peter and Stiles, giving his approval. Derek and Lydia both looks slightly worried, but Stiles thinks that’s par for the course, their default look. Scott stands slightly off to the side, and of course it’s a little awkward for him, seeing his best bro being thoroughly fucked, but his eyes are alpha red and Stiles can see the bulge in his jeans, before Peter takes his jaw and kisses him harshly.

“Stiles,” Peter moans, as his teeth scrape against Stiles’ neck.

Stiles wraps his legs around Peter’s hips, gripping his shoulders, and murmuring “More, Peter, harder.”

“Stiles, Stiles,” Peter chants, chewing on Stiles’ earlobe, “Stiles, wake up.”

_Dreams, dammit,_ he thinks and forces himself awake with a moan.

There’s light in the room from the porch light left on at the Cooper’s next door. Normally, Stiles hates them and their fucking light, but tonight it lets him see Peter sitting in the chair next to Stiles’ desk. He’s naked and Stiles can see the sheen on his face and chest, as he barely strokes his erect cock.

“What were you dreaming?” he asks, slight slur in his words from talking around his fangs.

“Dreaming? I don’t remember,” Stiles answers, unable to stop looking at Peter.

Peter smiles, his eyes flash bright blue. “You know I know you’re lying,” he says, pointedly looking at the tented sheets covering Stiles.

“Oh.” Stiles slips a hand under the covers and looks over at Peter, watching Peter’s hand squeeze his erection, sliding a finger over the slick head.

_“_ Show me,” Peter orders.

It’s almost like he’s still in the dream, he can’t resist and shoves the covers down and shimmies out of his boxers, kicking them to the floor. He keeps an eye on Peter, matching his rhythm and his breathing.

“What were you dreaming of?”

“You. Us,” Stiles tells him, hips arching up off the bed, thrusting into his hand. “We were running and you grabbed me.”

“Did I fuck you?” Peter asks, and Stiles watches as his claws come out and they both stroke themselves. Stiles brushes his hand over his nipple and then gives it a twist, listening to Peter’s quiet gasp. He shuts his eyes and smiles and he comes.

“Peter?” he asks quietly, looking over at the wolf. Peter’s slumped in the chair, head thrown back and eyes shut, idly running his fingers through the come pooled on his stomach.

Peter opens his eyes and rises from the chair, approaching Stiles’ bed. Stiles reaches out his hand, whispering, “Peter?”

He steps back and shakes his head. He shifts into his wolf form and before Stiles can say anything else, he’s gone out the bedroom window.

“Well, fuck.” Stiles reaches over the side of the bed and picks up something to wipe himself off. It’s Peter’s t-shirt, which feels so much softer than his own. Stiles wipes off his hand and belly, and hey, some on his neck as well. He folds up the shirt so it’s dry on the outside, then puts it up to his face, inhaling deeply. It smells of him, but more so of Peter, his cologne and just him. Stiles rolls over and falls asleep drooling happily.

 

“Stiles,” Andrew calls from the hallway, knocking on the bedroom door before he enters. Stiles is 17, almost 18 and Andrew’s walked in on too many personal moments to enter without knocking. “Stiles, I have to get into work early. I can phone your school and tell them you won’t be in today and – good god, what the hell is that?”

Stiles yawns and opens one eye, reaching down to pet Peter, who’s lying on top of him, muzzle tucked into Stiles’ neck. “What the hell is what?”

“That thing on your desk? The dead thing on your desk?”

He looks over, trying to see without moving too much from the warmth of his bed. “I don’t know, what is it? It looks like…is that a rabbit?”

“I think so,” Andrew says, stepping closer to the desk and poking the pile of fur with a pen.

“Huh.” Stiles lifts one of Peter’s paws from his chest and looks at it, rubbing the pads and studying the claws. “Yeah, kinda dirty, he must have gone for a run last night. Man, my bedspread is a mess.”

“Should you be doing that?” Andrew asks. “And why did he bring you a dead rabbit?”

“Probably to provide for me – part of the bonding spell. Isn’t that right, Peter?” Stiles rubs Peter behind the ears and gets a large yawn, filled with plenty of sharp teeth.

“Dog breath, dude,” Stiles says, pushing Peter’s head away, while his dad looks on, eyes widening.

“Probably because it would be too difficult to drag a buck into the bedroom window.” Peter yawns and sniffs the air, smiling at Stiles. “And you probably wouldn’t want me to take it in through the front door. I need a shower,” he says, looking at his hands.

Andrew grabs Stiles’ shirt from off the floor and throws it at Peter, covering most of his butt. “Please let me leave first. Although maybe you two shouldn’t stay here alone.”

“Yeah. And thanks for the bunny, Peter. I’m going to have to wash my entire bed today,” he says, pointing to the mud and grass stains on the comforter. And other bits that he’d rather not identify.

Andrew sighs and says, “Anyway, you’re not going to school today and the two of you figure out how to undo this thing. Call me when you find something out. And behave yourselves, no more dead animals.”

 

By the time Stiles has finished with his shower, Peter’s out of the bedroom and thankfully, the bunny is gone as well. When he gets downstairs, Peter’s got all their books and laptops together and is waiting in the living room, twirling his car keys on a finger.

“Ready?” he asks, standing and picking up their study items. He’s wearing one of Stiles’ t-shirts, one of the rare plain ones, stretched tight over his chest and biceps.

Stiles blushes when he thinks of Peter’s shirt, still buried under his pillow. “Why the rush? No time for coffee?”

“I think your father’s right. It’s probably best if we go someplace with other people, don’t you? Assuming you still want to research how to undo the bond.” Peter raises an eyebrow and gives one of those looks that Stiles feels goes through him. “Do you?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course I do.” Stiles looks for something to carry, but Peter has everything in his ridiculously strong arms. “Okay, so I guess we go. Where to? And coffee, please tell me there’s coffee in the plan.”

“Sure. We’ll grab coffee and breakfast and maybe go back to Derek’s. Safety in numbers.”

 

“This okay?” Peter asks, parking in front of Espresso Express.

“Sure!” Stiles exclaims, getting out of the car. “My favorite.”

“Take the stuff in, we can start reading in here,” Peter says, handing the two laptops to Stiles and holding the door open for him.

They put their work on a table in the corner and go the counter to order.

“Hey, guys, I didn’t know you knew each other,” the woman behind the counter says, smiling at Stiles. “Your usual, Stiles?”

“Extra large on the drink, please, Emily,” Stiles says and looks into the pastry case. “Also two of the bacon breakfast sandwiches.” He starts to pull bills out of his wallet and Peter gently pushes his hand down, pulling out a credit card.

“Large cappuccino, extra hot, and a raspberry danish, please.”

They go to their table with their food and wait for their drinks, plugging in laptops.

“We’ll stay here for a bit and then we can go to Derek’s and see if anyone found anything helpful,” Peter suggests, opening a book.

“Here you go,” Emily says, putting their drinks on the table, giving Stiles a big smile. “Do you have enough to eat, Stiles, you must be hungry today.”

“Thanks, this is great,” Stiles says, taking a large sip of his latte, head down in his laptop. He glances up and sees Peter’s claws in the book open in front of him. “Problem?” he asks, reaching over and patting Peter’s hand.

Peter takes a deep breath and retracts his claws. “I don’t like her interest in you.” He holds up a hand to stop Stiles’ stuttering objections. “She can’t help it. Part of the bond has you excreting something that acts like pheromones. They’re for me, to encourage the bond, but they’re strong now and getting stronger and others are affected by them.”

“You can smell something on me? I showered this morning!” He tries to discretely sniff his armpit, looking around the room.

“It’s not an unclean smell, it’s the bond. It’s … you reek.” Peter shrugs and takes a sip of coffee, ripping his pastry into pieces. “We’ll need to be careful around the others. Derek will respect the bond, he knows what it means. Scott…I’m not sure, he won’t know why he’s affected, just that he is.”

“Scott? Scott is going to sniff around at me?” Stiles hisses at Peter, shoving some of the sweet pasty into his mouth as Peter pushes it towards him. “How embarrassing. We can’t go there!”

“We’ll stay here for a bit and then go to Derek’s. I think it’ll be okay if we let them know to be ready for it. Lydia knows, she found information in one of the books, so she’s probably told Allison. She will have told Isaac, who will have told Scott.” He finishes his coffee and checks Stiles’ mug. “More? We could be here another hour or so.”

Stiles nods and finishes Peter’s breakfast, then uses a finger to swipe the milky foam out of his cup. He licks off his finger and shoves the cup towards Peter, who shuts his eyes and shakes his head. “Kill me again, please.”

“After we get rid of the bond,” Stiles assures him, flipping through a few more pages.

 

“Do you want to meet me at Derek’s?” Peter asks, standing by his car. “You take the car and I’ll run there.”

“No, don’t be dumb. We can sit in the car together, right?” Stiles asks, moving to the passenger side.

“I think so. Besides, I can drive while you text Derek and let him know we’re coming over.”

Stiles starts texting and looks over. “Anything special I should tell him? Should I tell him you said I stink?”

“You smell, but not bad. You smell...” Peter sniffs the air and shakes his head, forcing himself to focus on the road. “You smell very nice.”

“Aw, very nice, high praise indeed,” Stiles answers, glancing up from his text. “Okay, I told Derek we’d be coming over and he says he’ll be on his balcony. Guess Lydia or someone told him I’m werewolf catnip.”

Peter snorts and speeds up, tires squealing as he turns corners. “Maybe Deaton came up with something that can help us undo this.”

 

“There’s nothing in here, Peter. There’s nothing in here at all to undo this.” Stiles slams the book shut and shoves the stack away from him, scrubbing his face with his hands. “Anything, did you find anything?”

“No, there’s nothing here. I knew that yesterday,” Peter answers, leaning back from the table, shutting his laptop.

“You knew that and didn’t say anything? Great. What about Deaton, when is he going to call?”

Peter stands and moves to the window quietly looking outside. Derek left after about an hour, sticking his head into the loft long enough to say he was getting too antsy to stay. “He sent a text just after Derek left. There’s nothing. He contacted some people and they said that if it were just the first or possibly second steps, there might be a way to undo this. At this stage…”

“At this stage, what?” Stiles paces around his half of the room, trying to avoid getting too close to Peter and his ridiculous, broad back and biceps that flex as he clenches and unclenches his fists. Stupid Peter.

Peter turns, leaning against the window and Stiles can imagine how cool it would feel against his back. “At this stage, if we keep trying to fight the bond, we’ll lose. We’ll either attack each other for sex or to kill each other. Or end up trying to kill ourselves. Personally, having been dead before, I vote we stop fighting it.”

“You want… you want to be mates? Like forever?” He hopes his face looks like it’s a terrible idea, because something inside his chest is yelling _Yes_.

“I need air,” Peter says suddenly. “I need…I need to run, I’m going to the preserve.”

“Wait, we need to talk about this, we need to figure out what to…”

Before he can finish, Peter’s out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bond is formed and now they need to tell others, including Stiles' dad.

Peter’s car is awesome and at some point, when he’s not in a panic, Stiles’ll ask to drive it again. For now, he’s just trying to figure out where to find Peter before he passes out from the crushing pressure on his chest.

It’s easier to breathe the closer he gets to the preserve and he has an idea where Peter will at least start from. He parks by the burnt-out Hale house and he’s relieved he guessed right; Peter’s clothes and shoes are scattered around giving Stiles a path that he can follow.

“Peter! Peter, where are you, man?” Stiles calls as he jogs down the path. He’s pretty comfortable where he is now, this path basically runs from the Hale house (the ex-Hale house) to a small lake in a clearing. The pack’s spent several hot summer days hanging out by the lake and Stiles heads there, listening for any noise from Peter.

So yeah, this feels a little like his dream, except it’s still light out, only late afternoon and he’s pretty sure he’s safe. After all, Peter can’t really hurt him, not without hurting himself. And he doesn’t think Peter would hurt him anyway, after all, Peter’s said he likes Stiles. Stiles hears noises around him, the same type of shuffling he heard in his dream, and suddenly he’s knocked against a tree by a very naked Peter.

“You’re here,” he mutters, smashing his face in Stiles’ neck. “You shouldn’t have come, unless…”

Stiles tilts his head back, making Peter growl in this throat. He whispers, “Yeah, I’m here, Wolf, let’s do this.”

Peter scrapes his teeth down Stiles’ throat, pulling his shirt over his head. “Mate,” he whispers, as he picks Stiles up and gently places him on the ground. Their clothes seemingly vanish and Stiles grabs a shirt to put under his head and shoulders; the ground is a lot less comfortable than it was in his dream.

“Come on, Peter,” Stiles says, pulling Peter back down, trying for a kiss. Peter rubs his face against Stiles’ and bites along his neck and shoulder as Stiles tries to wiggle away so the marks might be covered by a shirt.

Peter moves down, nipping along his shoulder and then gives one nipple a sharp bite, making Stiles gasp. He pulls Peter against him, moaning the first time he feels their erections rubbing together. Peter reaches a hand in between them, grabbing both of them in one hand, pulling roughly. Stiles tries to wrap his legs around Peter’s hips, something he’s seen in porn that’s actually more difficult than he expected.

Peter ruts against him, and Stiles feels the wetness growing between them as he thrusts back, nuzzling into Peter’s neck. It doesn’t seem like long enough before Stiles feels the familiar warmth in his stomach and tightens his legs around Peter, throwing his head back as he comes, hot and wet between their bellies. Peter stiffens, eyes glowing blue as he follows after a few more thrusts.

Stiles sighs and stretches and then Peter pulls him over, so he’s resting mostly on top of Peter, head resting on his shoulder. “Hmm, you’re more comfortable than the ground, thank you.”

“Of course,” Peter murmurs into Stiles’ hair. He runs a couple of fingers into the come pooling on both their stomachs, licking his fingers and bringing them up to Stiles’ mouth.

He licks, wrinkling his nose, and says nothing, letting Peter go back to stroking his back.

“Do you feel it? The bond is forming,” Peter says quietly.

“What should I feel?”

He chuckles, rubbing his face on Stiles’ head. “Try to see if you can feel my emotions. You won’t be reading my mind, but the bond will let you feel your pack.”

“I feel something. It’s like…am I feeling your mood? You’re happy?”

“I’m content right now. It’s nice not wanting to rip your arms off. Different.” Peter yawns and pulls Stiles closer.

“Wait. What?” Stiles pulls back and looks at Peter. “You wanted to rip my arms off?”

“Just the last couple of days. The bond forming wasn’t completely comfortable. It’s much better now.”

“So this was enough to finish the bond? I kind of thought we’d have to…you know do the thing.”

“Obviously it’s enough. And I thought it wouldn’t be comfortable to ‘do the thing’ as I didn’t put any lube in my pockets,” he says, gesturing down his body. “Spit does not make good lube.”

“My mate is so smart.” Stiles sits up, scratching his neck. “What now? We’re safe, right? No killing each other or suicide pacts.”

“Not due to the bond at least.” Peter stays on the ground, resting a hand on Stiles’ leg. “When you feel like it, we should probably go tell Derek and let him tell the others. While we go to your house and tell your father.”

“We have to tell Derek? Why do we have to tell him?”

“We might not need to actually tell him, I’m sure he’s expecting it after this morning. And he can probably feel a bit of you through the bond as well.” Peter yawns and sits up, wrapping an arm around Stiles.

Stiles lets himself be pulled into Peter’s side. “He can feel me through what bond?”

“He’s my pack, whether he likes it or not. So he can tell you’re my mate,” Peter shrugs. “It’s not as strong as what we feel, but it’s there. As you grow stronger, and with more training, you’ll be able to feel other pack members, too.”

Stiles stands and looks for his clothes and leans against a tree to pull on his socks. He looks at his stomach and grimaces, grabbing a leaf off the ground to wipe off some of the drying come. “How about Scott? Can he tell?”

Peter yawns again, standing and watching as Stiles continues to dress. “Not through the bond, he’s not my pack. He’ll be able to tell, of course. He’ll smell me on you.”

“Yeah, well that won’t take werewolf senses, especially now. I’m sure I reek,” Stiles says, looking at his shirt and pulling it on, making a face at how it sticks to his stomach.

Peter raises an eyebrow and smiles toothily. “I think you smell lovely, even better than you did earlier. Let’s go see Derek, we need to get the books. Maybe we can use his shower and borrow a couple of shirts.”

“Oh great, I don’t have nearly enough wife-beaters,” Stiles says and starts up the path, back to the car. “Come on naked guy, let’s go.” He looks down, and sees Peter’s shifted back to his wolf shape, so he reaches over and scratches between Peter’s ears. He feels a flash of pleasure through the bond and tries to send something back, hoping Peter can feel it. Based on Peter’s head nudging his thigh, Stiles thinks he succeeded. “My life,” he sighs.

 

Peter slides open the door to the loft and they’re greeted by Derek, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. If you call glaring and shaking his head a greeting.

“Hello again, Derek, nice to see you’re home,” Peter says, familiar smirk on his face. “We have glorious news.”

“I can tell,” Derek answers. He sniffs the air and looks at Stiles. “You’re okay?”

Stiles shrugs and answers, “Guess it was inevitable, not sure why we wasted so much time.”

“We had to be sure. And plus, I think we both learned a lot,” Peter tells him, putting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Derek, would you have a couple of shirts we can borrow? And perhaps Stiles could use your shower? We have to go talk with his father later.”

Derek nods and flips a hand towards the bathroom, making Stiles roll his eyes at all the drama.

When they hear the shower start, Peter smiles and walks around Derek towards the small kitchen. “Mind if I grab a water? I don’t feel like I’ve been taking very good care of myself these last couple of days. I’ve been a bit preoccupied, you know.”

“Peter, tell me the truth,” Derek says, eyebrows all serious. “Did you do this on purpose? Did you know what you were starting when you said Stiles was your mate?”

Peter drinks half the bottle of water before he answers. “No. No, I did not. I was just thinking of something that might save a pack-mate, that’s all.”

Derek studies him for a long moment and says, “Mostly true. Something’s not right though.”

The older wolf sighs and finishes the water. “Am I sorry that it’s him rather than Isaac or Erica or one of the others? No, I’m not. Have I thought about having Stiles on his knees in front of me with my cock down his throat and tears on his pretty face? Yes, I have -- look at that mouth, how could I not?” He smiles and cocks an eyebrow. “Maybe you have, too?” He brushes past Derek towards a small dresser, pulling out drawers looking for a shirts for each of them. “I never planned it, I didn’t want it, but I’ll certainly make the best of it. I wish you wore more colors, none of these are particularly flattering on me,” he says, holding up a dark gray and dark green Henley. “I’ll wear the green, and Stiles can have the gray. You do need to expand your horizons, nephew.”

They both turn to watch Stiles approach, finger combing his damp hair. Peter smiles as he holds out a shirt. “Not my favorite color or smell, but it’ll do. Let’s get our things and go talk with your father.”

Stiles pulls the shirt over his head and from deep inside says, “The fun never stops.”

 

“Hi, Dad,” Stiles says, grabbing his father into a tight hug.

It’s longer than normal, the kind they share after a near-death experience. It’s depressing that Andrew recognizes that type of hug, but over the last couple of years, he’s too familiar with them. “Hello back. Are you okay, what happened? Did you fix things?”

“Thanks for being here, I hope you didn’t have to leave anything important.” Stiles says, sitting down on the couch with Peter next to him.

“No problem, tell me what’s going on,” Andrew says, looking at the two of them sitting on the couch, not quite touching but close. Closer than Andrew would like and closer than before.

“Well, you know the whole mating bond thing we were talking about yesterday?” Stiles asks. “Couldn’t undo it, so it’s kind of done.”

“Done meaning what? You’re … mates? Which means what?”

Peter smiles and takes Stiles’ hand, while Stiles freezes, glancing from Peter to his father. “Yes, we’re now mates. Which means we’ll be together. Basically, things will be very much as they now, but Stiles will move in with me.”

Stiles jerks his hand away. “What? I will?”

“Yes, obviously, that’s pretty much what mates do.”

Andrew stands and glares at the pair, focusing on Peter. “You think he’s moving in with you? Remember the part about him not being 18 yet?”

“Yes, of course. But he’s 18 in a couple of months. And a couple of months after that, he graduates from high school. And a few months after that, he’ll go to college.” Peter takes Stiles hand back and addresses Andrew. “And he can go to any college that he gets an acceptance to. If he wants to go to Stanford or Yale or Cambridge, if he gets in, I’ll pay for it.” He shrugs and smiles before he continues, “Frankly, if he wants to go someplace and doesn’t have official acceptance, we can probably work around that as well.”

“If I’m not accepted somewhere we’ll work around it?”

“I know people who owe me favors,” Peter says and then turns his attention back to Andrew. “He’ll have his own room and of course he’ll see you frequently. But he’ll live with me.”

Andrew scrapes a hand through his hair and looks between them. Somehow, in the last twenty-four hours, Stiles looks different; more self-assured and mature. He’s not even twitching as he sits next to Peter, holding his hand.

“Stiles is this what you want? Are you okay with this?”

Stiles shrugs and looks down, exhaling sharply. “It’s not what I expected, but I understand it. It’s okay, I know that it’ll be okay. That’s really the only way I can explain it.”

“You’re okay with this, Hale? I’m still suspicious that you didn’t do this on purpose,” Andrew says.

“I assure you, I didn’t. If I were to pick a new mate, I’d probably choose a 28 year old brunette woman who likes to travel and would eventually give me several children. But as someone said, you can’t always get what you want.” He smiles at Stiles and squeezes his hand. “He’s brunette at least and I’m sure after college we’ll be able to travel.”

“You seem to have this all planned out for something so last minute,” Andrew points out.

“No, not really. Some is instinct and some is just trying to do what’s logical. Stiles has school on Monday, so he should pack things he’ll need. We’ll come over tomorrow or Sunday and pick up more things; he should have whatever he needs at his home. But I think because there’s always a chance of a troll under a bridge, we should make plans as though he won’t be here this weekend.”

Both Andrew and Stiles look at the wolf and Andrew asks, “Troll? There’s a troll?”

Peter sighs, shaking his head. “No, not that I know of, it’s just things like that are always a possibility here. Stiles, you should go upstairs and get supplies for a couple of days and you school books. Do you need help?”

He stands and shakes his head. “No, I can do it. It’s just…yeah, it makes sense. We’ll get more things over the weekend?”

“Everything you want to move, we will,” Peter says, running his hand down Stiles’ arm as the boy steps away and goes upstairs.

“You told me before I can’t hurt you without hurting Stiles, is that right?” Andrew asks, leaning forward in his chair.

“I’m afraid so, Andrew. I do want to let you know that I’ll take care of him. And as I said, he won’t be kept from you. Family is important, I’d never do that,” Peter says and leans back on the sofa, looking comfortable. Above them, they hear doors and drawers slamming and Stiles’ quiet monologue as he presumably packs to move out of his childhood home.

“Family is important. I’m glad you know that.” Andrew gets up and paces the room, keeping an eye on Peter as he walks. He goes to a cabinet and takes out a bottle of scotch, pour an inch into two glasses. “Stiles will be less judgmental if he sees I’m not drinking alone.”

“Thank you,” Peter says and sips from his glass.

“I’m not being nice, I thought I made that clear.” Andrew drinks his quickly and sets the glass on the table. “You know, I know that Stiles isn’t some delicate little flower who needs protecting, not from normal things. And if I liked you even one iota, I might feel a little sorry for you, because you are going to have your hands full. But I don’t like you. And if the only thing to worry about around here would be his heart getting broken, I wouldn’t say anything. Unfortunately, around here, we have to worry about vampires and kanimas and maybe even trolls.”

“I don’t think trolls are actually anything to worry about.” Peter finishes his drink and puts his glass next to Andrew’s.

“Okay, that’s good, but whatever else there is, if you let any of it hurt Stiles,” Andrew starts and Peter tilts his head and listens with a hint of a smile on his face. “If you let Stiles get hurt, I will kill the rest of your family. I’m sure you think I’m joking, because I’m not the sort of person you’d expect to do that, but I will. I’ll feel bad about Derek, because I like him and he likes me – which is why I’ll be able to surprise him. I’m not sure how I’ll get to Cora, maybe when she comes for her brother’s funeral. But I will.”

Peter tries to keep emotions off his face, but something must show because the Sheriff grins a little and sits back in his chair. “Good. I see I got through to you. If you two are really a couple, I know you’ll argue and hurt each other’s feelings, because that’s what couples do. But if he’s hurt, really hurt – I’ll hurt your family the same way.”

“Peter, is everything okay?” Stiles yells from the top of the stairs. “I’m nearly done. You feel…”

“I’m fine, just talking with your father,” he calls out, not turning away from Andrew.

“Oh, god, I’ll be right down,” Stiles mumbles and thumps his way back down the hall.

Peter stands and moves towards the door. “I understand what you’re saying, Sheriff. It’s good to know where Stiles gets his particular brand of loyalty from.”

Stiles comes down the stairs, backpack over his shoulder along with a canvas duffle bag. “Hey, I’m ready, I’ve got stuff for the next couple of days.” He looks from Peter to his father. “Okay, no tension around here.” Stiles goes to his dad for another long hug, this time whispering to him, “Really, it’ll be okay. I’ll call you tonight and see you tomorrow. It’s okay, Dad.”

And then they’re gone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The McCall pack gets used to Stiles being mated and Stiles and Peter get used to each other.

It’s just a thought that he should get to school a little early on Monday. He parks in his normal place and when he gets to the door, the pack is standing outside waiting, just as expected.

Scott is the first to grab him, pulling him into a tight hug, brushing his cheek against Stiles’. “Stiles! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Scott, I told you that yesterday,” he gently pushes Scott back and drags his hand over Erica’s and Boyd’s shoulders.  Isaac he ignores as much as possible, which seems fine as Isaac doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to him.

“I got a text; it could have been you or it could have been Peter trying to make it seem that you’re okay,” Scott says, looking Stiles up and down. 

“Really, Scott? I’m okay.”

“So what’s it like? Is Peter as crazy in bed as he is out of it?” Erica asks, shoving Stiles with a shoulder, as Boyd rolls his eyes.

“Erica, how rude!” Stiles looks away and shakes his head. “Actually…he’s really super nice. I have my own room with a queen-sized pillow top mattress, and a flat screen on the wall and dresser and shit. Peter called and he’s getting me a desk, too, that’ll match the furniture. It’s really okay, very civil.”

Erica looks crestfallen and the others look slightly confused.

Allison squeezes his arm and quietly asks, “But you’re his mate, right? The whole thing with the not breathing and the bonding and…”

“Bodily fluids,” Isaac finishes. “That was supposed to be a big part of it, right?”

“Yeah, no pain, bonding happened,” Stiles says, nodding as the bell rings. “Look, I’ll see you guys at lunch and we can talk then, okay?”

“Sure, buddy,” Scott says, patting Stiles on the shoulder as they separate to go to their classes. 

 

Of course, each class has at least one pack member in it, so Stiles never is really on his own. Boyd pretty much leaves him alone, other than a raised eyebrow. Isaac sits behind him and sniffs at his back because everything he does is annoying, and Erica texts him inappropriate questions that he ignores.

“Is that all you’re getting?” Allison asks him, as they go through the lunch line, nodding at his two cartons of milk.

“Yup, brought my lunch today,” Stiles says, pulling a paper bag out of his backpack. He unwraps a sandwich, carefully straightening out the foil and setting out his sandwich for all to admire. “Left over pot roast with gravy.”

“Damn, that looks good,” Boyd says, looking over and then back at his grilled chicken breast. “Left over?”

Stiles takes a bite and nods. “Sunday night dinner. Pot roast with roast potatoes and green beans. We have Sunday night dinner.”

“Nice. So things are going okay, at least as far as you being fed?” Lydia says, dipping her fork in the salad dressing before piercing a bite of her salad.  

“Yeah, I think it’s okay. I mean it’s only been three nights, but so far, so good. It’s kind of like having a really touchy roommate,” Stiles answers. “He does the thing with his hand around the back of my neck, or he touches my arm when he walks past me…”

“Scent marking you, sure,” Scott says, nodding. “That makes sense, especially since you two are new. He’s trying to merge your scents together.”

“Right, we read that in one of the books you made us pointlessly study,” Isaac says, wrapping up his sandwich crusts.

Allison pushes her apple over to Isaac and asks, “Have you talked with your dad since Friday?  How’s he taking it?”

Stiles sighs, finishing the last of his sandwich and licking his fingers. “Actually, I think he’s okay with it, or getting there at least. We were at the house on Saturday to pick up my stuff and it was a little awkward. But on Sunday I brought him lunch at the station, and he seemed okay.”

“So all your stuff is at Peter’s?”

“Well, I guess you can say it’s at our house. Like I said, I have a room and have some of my stuff in it, and other things are around the house. Game stuff and DVDs are in the living room.” He shrugs and starts to gather up his things for the afternoon. “It all seems pretty reasonable.”

“And later on, when these weenies aren’t around, you’ll tell me about the hot monkey sex?” Erica asks, bumping him with her shoulder.

Stiles looks down and shrugs. “It’s kind of weird, I guess.  Saturday night at some point, he came into my room and slept with me, but just slept. Cuddled like the big spoon. And he was gone before I got up. But other than that and the scent marking, we aren’t _doing_ anything.”

Scott looks over, eyebrows drawn together. “You don’t cuddle, you spread out like you’re melting.”

Erica grins and asks, “And you know this why?”

“Cause we’ve known each other since we were eight,” Stiles answers, rolling his eyes at the thought. “But yeah, Peter’s a cuddler, which is kinda great cause he’s so warm and I’m usually cold at night.”  

“So is just cuddling a problem?” Isaac asks. “When all the bond stuff happened, you were saying that you didn’t want to be mated with him. So that changed?”

“It’s just kind of strange, you know. He’s said multiple times how this is it for the rest of our lives, so I guess I’m just wondering if I’m going to be celibate for the rest of my life,” Stiles says, frowning. “I know he didn’t want to be mated, so maybe he’s not attracted to me and…”

Lydia snorts and holds up a hand to stop him. “Stiles, as someone without super senses, using only my eyes, believe me, he’s attracted to you.”

“Completely,” Boyd says. “And as someone who can smell it, yeah. You two are full of stink for each other.”

“Really? I guess that’s good to know. In a totally invasive sort of way.”

Allison pats his hand and says, “You’re right, it’s still new. Get used to each other.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. We haven’t even gone on a first date and now we’re living together. I guess things won’t progress in the normal manner.”

The group stands and gathers their books as the first bell rings. “I never thought I’d say this, but go home tonight and have sex with that psycho,” Scott says, and pats him on the back.

 

“Hey, Peter, I’m…I’m home.”

“Stiles,” Peter answers looking up from his tablet and rubbing his eyes. “How was school? Were your friends happy to see you’re still alive?”

“Yeah, and kind of surprised, too,” Stiles says, and goes into the kitchen, opening the cabinet door. “Okay if I have a snack?”

“Of course. I’ll say it again; it’s your house, too.”

Stiles roots through cabinets to see what’s available and says, “I know, sort of.  Just trying to get used to it and – oh, pistachios! Can I have these?”

“Of course, help yourself. We’ll go grocery shopping and get things you want. We forgot to do that this weekend,” Peter says, tilting his head back to watch the boy grab a soda from the fridge and come into the living room.

Stiles sits next to him on the couch, pushing the bag so it’s between them. “I just wasn’t sure if you were saving them for something. And I didn’t get you something to drink, do you want anything?” he says, starting to rise.

Peter puts a hand out and gently pushes him back down. “I’m fine, thank you. And not saving them for anything. I don’t have any plans for a party with vintage wine and pistachios coming up. Eat what you want.”

“You might have something planned, I don’t know. Book club every other Thursday?” He cracks a couple of nuts, carefully putting the shells on a paper towel on his lap.

“I had a book club, but when they wanted to read “Tuesdays with Morrie” I killed them all.”

“Understandable.” Stiles eats quietly, glancing up at Peter occasionally. “So what did you do today?”

“Worked for a few hours,” he says, gesturing to his tablet.

Stiles leans over and tries to see what Peter has open. “What do you do exactly? I didn’t think you or Derek needed to work.”

“I don’t need to, not for money. But I get bored and figure I might as well put my degree and talents to use,” Peter answers, grinning.

Stiles puts the bag and trash on the table, moving over to see Peter’s tablet. “What’s your degree in?”

“Art history, for one. Talia was insistent that I find something to interest me. Art always has.” He leans over and smells Stiles’ hair. “Hmm, I can tell you were back with the other pack.”

“Sorry, there was hugging and stuff. They said they could smell you on me, too.” He moves back a little and says, “Do you want me to take a shower?”

“No, then you’d smell like them with soap.” Peter reaches an arm out and pulls Stiles closer, so he’s leaning against Peter’s side, with a hand curled around his neck. “My job is finding works of art for people to purchase.”

Stiles relaxes into Peter’s side, smiling when he feels Peter’s lips against his temple. “Somehow I suspect there’s more to it than you’re saying?”

Peter puts the tablet on the table next to him, yawns and stretches, letting Stiles sit back up. “Well, sometimes people want things that – in the truest legal sense – they might not be strictly entitled to.”

“I knew it,” Stiles snorts. “You couldn’t do something completely legal. So it’s what, stolen artwork or illegal artifacts?”

“Stolen is such a loaded word,” the wolf says, grinning. “Misplaced perhaps?”

“Nothing that’ll get traced back to you, I’m sure.”

Peter raises an eyebrow and says, “One of the reasons I’m so successful is my flawless documentation. I make sure everything has a detailed history. And nothing can be traced back directly to me.”

Stiles looks around the room at the oil paintings on the wall. “Can’t say I’m surprised that you found a career that is both illegal and a little bit glamorous. So the paintings in here are all…”

“Originals,” Peter answers. “Things I found for myself. Tell me if there’s an artist you like and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Hmm, I can tell you my favorite Marvel artists, but I doubt that’s your style.”

Peter smiles, a genuine smile that Stiles has seen only a few times and runs his hand down Stiles’ shoulder, “Well your 18th birthday is coming up.”

The feeling of warmth from the bond floods Stiles’ stomach, making him lean into Peter’s hand. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Peter answers instantly.

“When we were reading all the mating stuff, there was a lot about mating for alliances or political reasons versus mating for love, right?”

Peter nods. “Yes, very true. Alphas especially usually end up mating with someone who will be a good match and bring strength to their pack. The match is made with someone they’re compatible with and often they end up falling in love, or at the very least having a very good friendship with.”

“Talia and her husband? Were they an arranged match?”

“Yes,” Peter answers slowly. “Can I ask why you’re asking?”

“Just trying to figure this out. And you and me. Derek doesn’t talk about his parents much, just that they had a large family.”

“I’m sure he saw them as being very close, that does usually happen even when the mating was originally a political alliance,” Peter says. “They were a good couple and very good parents.”

Stiles reaches out and rests his hand on Peter’s arm. “And your mate? Was that arranged?”

“No,” Peter answers, and Stiles feels a flash through the bond. “Trisha and I met in Europe and I brought her back with me. We were…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” Stiles says, and rubs Peter’s arm.

“Well that’s over, that’s the past,” Peter says, and Stiles can both see and feel him steeling himself, closing off again. “Now I have you and we have each other. I’m sure that in time, we’ll become close and probably even content.”

“Great goal,” Stiles mutters.

Peter stands and picks up his tablet and carries it and an empty glass towards the kitchen. “I thought we’d order in something for dinner, is that okay? And you should call your father, let him know you’re still alive.”

“I texted him earlier, but yeah, I’ll call him.” He picks up his garbage and goes into the kitchen, putting back leftovers and rinsing his glass. “Carry out is good, what do you like?”

“Thai or Greek tonight?” Peter suggests, grazing Stiles’ arm as he passes him. “And you should start your homework before dinner. I have an hour or so of work left, we’ll order after that, okay?”

“Sure,” the boy shrugs, watching Peter go into his office, closing the door behind him. Stiles goes into his room and sees the new desk arrived, and Peter’s added a lamp and a new printer.

It’s nice, Stiles thinks as he flops down on the bed, pulling the pillow into his face for a nap before dinner.

It’s all very nice and very civil.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles turns 18 and he and Peter have a talk about the future.

“You have to come, Peter. I want you to.”

Peter raises an eyebrow, putting his wine glass on the table next to him. “Really, Stiles? You think your father wants to spend your 18th birthday with me?”

“He loathes you a lot less than he used to. And I told him you’d be there.” Stiles sits next to Peter and rubs his nose against Peter’s neck, something he knows the wolf likes. “It’s my birthday party and I’m going to whine and be petulant unless you agree.”

“Fine, we can’t have that,” he says, gently pushing back against Stiles, tilting his head. “Take a shower and wear your new brown sweater.”

“That’s my bossy wolf! You should wear that blue long sleeved tee, it makes your eyes look great.”

“Of course it does. And who’s the bossy one?” Peter asks, heading to his room to change.

 

The birthday party is at the Italian restaurant one town over. It’s a small family owned place that used to be someone’s home, with the original dining room in the back reserved for the party. It’s set up with a round table big enough to seat all of them comfortably and still have a loaded buffet table at the side. The room’s warm because of the heating trays, so the window is open letting in the cool April air.

Stiles sits with his dad on one side and Scott on the other. Peter’s almost across from him, with Derek on one side and Erica on the other; Derek because he might be able to control his uncle if needed and Erica just because Peter likes her sass.

The restaurant suggested they ordered too much food, but Andrew assured them the group of hungry teenagers could handle it. And leftovers are good, too, of course, if there are any.

There’s not a lot of conversation at the start of dinner, with everyone helping themselves to lasagna and sausages, various types of pasta and vegetables and plate after plate of garlic bread. A little salad even gets eaten.

“You know this is an exception to the rule, right, Dad?”

Andrew smiles and takes a bite of meatball. “I’m still following your rules even though you’re not home. Mostly.”

“My mom’s keeping an eye on him,” Scott says, smiling at Melissa, who is sitting next to Andrew.

Melissa sips her wine and shrugs. “Hey, I’m trying, but he’s a tough case.”

“Good thing you two are going out to dinner a couple of times a week,” Lydia comments, grinning into her plate.

“You are?” Stiles asks, turning to his father. “That’s… that’s good. Surprising, but good.” He turns to Scott and asks, “Did you know this?”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s not a problem, is it?”

“No, of course not. I’m just surprised,” Stiles answers and glances at Peter for a quick smile back.

“So your dad got you a new laptop,” Kira says, taking mushrooms off Scott’s plate. “What did Peter get you?”

“Oh! Let me show you,” Stiles says, pulling out his phone and passing it to Scott. “It’s an original Star Wars poster, framed, no creases, signed by George Lucas. Place of honor over my desk.”

“Great, I think,” Scott answers, looking the picture and passing the phone to his left. “And you have someone to share your weird obsession with.”

“Did you get him anything else, Peter?” Derek asks, glancing at the picture on the phone as he passes it to Erica. “Anything to share?”

Peter gives a side-eye to Derek and says, “Yes, I did. I got Stiles a couple of books he wanted and a protection charm.”

“What kind of books?” Andrew asks, looking between his son and the wolf.

“Some magic books,” Stiles says, shrugging. “Ones that Peter didn’t already have, obviously. Deaton doesn’t have them either.”

“Is that stuff safe? Aren’t you supposed to have training or something?”

“Yes,” Stiles answers his father, “some of it is studying by myself and some I’ll need training for.” He looks over at Peter, who looks placidly back at him, twirling spaghetti on his fork. “There’s a woman in San Francisco who says she’ll train me starting this summer. We’re actually going to see her this weekend.”

“Another birthday present,” Peter says, pouring himself more wine, and nudging the glass over to Erica. “We’ll see her this weekend and she’s also going to do an anti-possession tattoo for Stiles.”

“Excuse me, she’s doing what?” Andrew asks, glaring from Stiles to Peter.

“Technically, it’s a combination of a couple of things. The ink is a potion she’ll teach me to make and there’s a spell she’ll say and then there’s the tattoo itself.”

“And this is your idea?” Andrew asks Peter, as he aggressively butters a slice of bread.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Melissa says before Peter can say anything. “Anything that might provide protection for Stiles has to be a good idea. If he has some kind of magic spark, then training sounds like a good idea, too. They just need to be careful.”

Scott nods enthusiastically, and takes Kira’s hand. “Yeah, that sounds good. And hey, do you guys need company? We can make it a field trip!”

“Thank you, while that sounds fun, we’ll probably be all day between the tattoo and setting up lessons,” Peter says. His face is perfectly calm, but Stiles grins as he feels a flare of annoyance through the bond.

“So she’ll be able to set up lessons around your college classes? You’ll be able to drive from Stanford to San Francisco on the weekends?” Lydia asks, looking through all the pictures on Stiles phone.

Stiles takes a breath and says, “I’m not going to Stanford. I’m not actually going away to college.”

“What are you going to do? I mean…where are you going?” Allison asks, confusion on her face.

“I’m not going to start college this fall, not with a full case load. I’m going to take some on-line classes; Peter is helping me pick out what ones are the most necessary for an emissary.”

Everyone’s quiet for a minute and Peter jumps in. “He’ll take classes and I’m sure we can figure out something that will equal a degree. After all, I don’t want to have to spend my future with an idiot,” he says, smiling smugly at Stiles. “But some things will be more helpful than others. He needs botany, chemistry, history, mythology. I’m sure we can turn it into a General Studies degree.”

“What happened to him going to any college he wants?” Andrew asks.

Peter nods and says, “And he can. This is his choice.”

“Stiles, I don’t understand,” Scott says. “We’ve been talking about where to go to college since we were fourteen. You were going to go to MIT, remember? Yeah, we changed our minds a lot about where to go and what to study, but we’ve always talked about going away to college and having an adventure.”

Stiles snorts, shaking his head. “Adventure? You haven’t had enough adventure, Scott? Yeah, I thought about going away when I was fourteen, but then decided we should run in the woods and you got bit by a werewolf and now we end up with monsters running around every couple of months and chaos spirits and …” He sighs and mutters, “Things change, Scott. I’m doing things I need to do that make sense for what’s going on now.”

Before anyone can add anything else, the wait staff comes in with a chocolate cake and plates and start singing Happy Birthday. The party joins in, but they’re obviously subdued.

“So is this where you rip off the table cloth and Eddie’s half-eaten body is underneath?” Erica stage whispers to Peter.

“I never leave things half-eaten,” he whispers back, taking back his wine glass.

Obviously the party’s over. The cake is quickly eaten, leftovers packed and split up and Stiles’ cards and gifts bagged to take home.

Stiles gets hugs from everyone, including an extra long one from his dad. “If you want to talk about this…” Andrew whispers.

“I know Dad, we’ll talk, I promise. I’ll see you in a couple of days,” Stiles says back.

 

“What I’m saying is, I don’t think it would have gone much differently if you hadn’t have been there,” Stiles says, continuing the argument they started in the car.

Peter dumps the presents on the dining room table to be sorted out tomorrow. “What I’m saying is that it would have been taken as your decision and not me forcing things on you.”

“No, they would have ganged up on me and you wouldn’t have been there to back me up. They’ll come around, they have to,” Stiles says, pulling the cards out from among the gifts. “I’ve made up my mind and thank you for backing me up.”

“Of course, I’ll always back you up,” Peter says. “As long as what you’re doing make some sense and doesn’t put you in danger. I’m your mate, it’s my duty.”

Stiles smiles and walks over to Peter, rubbing his face in Peter’s neck. “Yeah, it’s your duty, you have a few duties. And I’m eighteen you know, if that means anything to you.”

“It absolutely does,” Peter purrs, scratching Stiles’ temple with his beard. “You’re old enough to vote.”

“You’re a dick, but luckily, I like dick.” He moves his head so they’re nose to nose running his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Kiss me. It’s my birthday, and you should.”

Peter rubs their noses together and kisses Stiles, carefully and just a little more than chastely.

“Nice, I guess. How about a little more?” Stiles asks, lips against Peter’s mouth, kissing again, slipping out his tongue to coax Peter to let him in.

Peter kisses back for a moment, then pulls away, saying “Stiles…Stiles, please, we need to stop.”

“Stop? Why?” He moves away and holds Peter by the arm so he can’t leave, at least not easily. “Why stop? I’m eighteen, if that was something that mattered to you. We’re mates, we sleep together, sometimes jerk each other off and I remember one memorable night when you gave me oral, which was pretty great. It’s okay for my dick to be in your mouth, but not my tongue?”

“Stiles,” Peter says, cupping his hand on his boy’s cheek. “I have things on my mind and I need to focus there. I can’t…I can’t let you distract me and you _do_ distract me. You must know that.”

“I know you want me. I can feel that, but it’s like you have a wall that you won’t let me behind. What is it?”

“I need to keep you safe, that’s the most important thing. You’re not a werewolf, but you’re mated to one plus you’re an emissary in training. Any leeway hunters might have given you before, they won’t any more. To most of them, you’re no longer human, you’re mated to a wolf, so you’re a traitor to your race.” Peter crosses his arms, and stares out the window, looking at the stars.

Stiles stands next to Peter, leaving a few inches between them, close enough that either could reach out to touch the other. “Safe. Safe from what, is there something new here?”

“No, not that I know of, just safe from everything. You’re my mate and I need to protect you and I know it’s hard to understand…”

“Did my dad say something? Tonight or before?” Stiles turns and glares and Peter stops him before he can continue.

Peter smiles and brushes a hand on Stiles’ arm. “He gave me the usual threats, but that’s not it. As I said, it’s hunters and other packs. I’m an omega, which means _you’re_ an omega. Dangers from other packs, dangers from hunters…”

“Chris and Allison have this territory, other hunters wouldn’t come in without talking with them first, that’s their rules,” Stiles says, reaching out to Peter, but finding he’s backed away again.

“Hunters’ rules, for all the good they are.” Peter crosses his arms over his chest and says, “Stiles do you know why I wasn’t killed in the fire?”

“I know you weren’t in the house, but no, I don’t know where you were or why.” Stiles takes a step closer so he’s within touching distance again, although he doesn’t reach out.

“I was about 40 miles away, bringing back lunch for my wife. She was five months pregnant and the minute she stopped having morning sickness she craved beef ribs from a barbeque restaurant a couple of towns over.” Peter snorts quietly, smiling, lost in thought. “I tried making them and Laura tried, too. Tricia ate them with good grace, but said the ones from the restaurant were her favorite, so I gladly went to get them. I could smell the smoke from about ten miles away and when I got to the house…”

Stiles stands behind Peter, and wraps his arms around Peter’s shoulders. “It won’t happen again, you know that Peter. Kate was bat-shit crazy and Chris won’t let hunters do that kind of thing. And we’re smarter now, too. All the pack, and we can protect each other.”

Peter shakes his head, then ducks his head to kiss Stiles’ hand. “I hear what you’re saying, so please hear me now. I have some things I’m working on, plans that can keep us both safe. I need to focus on that for now, without distractions.” He turns and wraps his arms around Stiles, kissing his jaw, along his ear and up to his temple. “I promise when this is done and when I’m sure we’re safe, I’ll be able to pay more attention to you. I’ll be the mate you deserve.”

“You need to focus? I stop you from focusing? Guess I’m flattered.” Stiles tilts his head, giving Peter room to scent or kiss his neck if he’s inclined.

“You’re a lovely distraction and one I can’t allow right now. I need to think with my head and not my…”

“Cock?” Stiles grins as he interrupts.

“My emotions,” Peter answers, with a hint of condescension in his voice. “And maybe a little with my cock.”

Stiles sighs and says, “Okay, I’ll try to give you room, but remember, part of being your mate is you can talk to me, I can help you plan. I am the smart one, remember?” He gives Peter a kiss on the cheek and backs away, grinning. “But it is birthday, so maybe a little sloppy scent marking?”

“Well I suppose I need to get the smell of those other wolves off you somehow,” Peter answers, taking Stiles’ hand to lead him to the bedroom.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Scott share way too much and Peter reveals his plans. Oh and some sex.

“Dude, you have got to help me, I’m going bonkers,” Stiles says, flopping on the floor next to Scott.

“More than usual, how can you tell?” Scott asks, grinning, and elbowing Stiles in the side.

“Wow, that’s almost funny. Did you read it in a joke book?”

Scott leans over and sniffs his friend. “What do you need, Stiles? You smell all…anxious or something?”

“You guys are so weird, with the sniffing and all,” Stiles answers and grabs one of the game controls. “What are we playing? Never mind, I’ll win whatever it is.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Scott says and promptly runs Stiles’ car off the road.

Their conversation stays on the game and trash-talking for a while before Scott asks, “So what’s going on? Peter talking with you yet?”

“No, not really, he’s still keeping pretty quiet about whatever he’s planning. Although he seems to be a little more relaxed the last couple of days. I’m supposed to be his mate, right? So he’s supposed to share stuff he’s thinking and like his body, right?” Stiles whoops when he shoots a couple of people, now elbowing Scott in the side. “I’m thinking I’ll hit on him again, he can’t hold out on me forever.”

“I really don’t want details,” Scott answers, leaning forward as though that’ll help his car in the game. “But you’re seriously not getting anything? That’s really weird, I thought maybe he was waiting until your birthday or something, at least for the sex part. It’s no better now that we’re out of school?”

“Not really. Maybe a little more cause I’m around the house all the time now and I can look seriously sexy. But he won’t tell me what he’s planning and you know him, he can plan some serious shit.” He puts down the controller watching his car hit a wall and burst into flames. “So serious question here, not showering afterwards and rolling around in the jizz – Peter thing or wolf thing?”

Scott blushes bright red and he stammers, “Uh, dude! What kind of question is that?”

“It’s a serious wolf-related question. I asked Peter and he just laughed.” Stiles tilts his head and says, “Maybe I should ask Kira? Or Allison, she’s on werewolf boyfriend two, I’m sure she’d be willing to dish.”

“Please don’t,” Scott begs, rubbing his eyes until everything’s blurry – except Stiles who is still in front of him grinning. “It’s a wolf thing I think. It’s not like I’ve taken a survey, but, I think so, I mean… not that I like having things in common with Peter, but it’s good to know, I guess.”

“Yeah, well that’s about all I get, and mostly after I’ve been around you guys. Man, after the graduation party, with all the hugging and stuff…I’ll spare you details, but there was a lot of laundry the next day.”

Scott grimaces and says, “Thanks for sparing me the details. I can understand it though, smelling other wolves on his partner would probably make him a little possessive.”

“Does it bug you with Kira?”

“I know everyone Kira’s around and we’re all pack, so not really.”

Stiles scratches his head and says, “Still, I wonder if there’s a way to use that?”

“Probably,” Scott shrugs and pulls off his t-shirt. “Here, swap shirts with me for a bit, that’ll give you some more of my smell.”

“Okay!” Stiles says, and pulls off his shirt, grabbing for Scott’s, amazed by his friend’s great idea. Scott’s the best.

Scott looks at Stiles’ neck, then turns his head away, wrinkling his nose. “Nice love bites.”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles answers, rubbing some of the bruises on his shoulder. “That seems to come with the spunk exchange. Thanks, this might get some notice.”

As soon as Stiles sits back down, Scott leaps on him rolling on top and rubbing his neck over Stiles’ face and neck then getting him in a head-lock and rubbing his armpit over Stiles’ head. “There,” he says, laughing and sitting back down, grabbing for the game controls. “Only other thing is to rub my butt all over you, but I think we can safely skip that.”

“Please, let’s skip that,” Stiles says, trying to finger comb his hair back into something less of a mess. “I’m guessing this’ll get some type of reaction.”

Scott holds up a hand. “No details, please. None,” Scott says, looking like a serious puppy.

“Bro code,” Stiles says, nodding. “No details.”

 

“Hey, Peter, I’m back!” Stiles yells entering their apartment. “You here?”

Peter comes out of his office, looking at his phone. “Yes dear, no need to yell, I can hear you perfectly…” He freezes and visibly scents the air, in a way that he seldom does, making Stiles think of a dog. Or Scott.

“Hey, Peter, you okay?”

Peter grabs Stiles’ arms, sniffing at his neck. “You smell…you smell like you’ve been fucking Scott, what were you doing?”

Stiles backs up, holding up his hands in surrender. “We spent the afternoon playing video games. We wrestled a bit, you know, when you win? How you do? But I swear that’s all. He’s just my bro, promise.”

Peter moves towards him, still sniffing, eyes bright blue. “You stink, it’s…” Peter keeps approaching, pushing Stiles up against the wall. “Part of me wants to throw you in the shower and part wants to throw you into bed.”

“Can I vote on this?” Stiles asks quietly, tilting his head back for Peter to scent him. He can feel Peter’s agitation through the bond, and keeps his eyes off Peter’s to avoid any challenge. He’s not afraid of Peter, but…

“Hmm, it’s strong, more than usual.” Peter runs his tongue up Stiles’ neck and grimaces. “What did you do, it’s…” He shakes his head and pulls Stiles towards his bedroom.

Stiles lets himself be dragged and when he’s tossed on the bed, he starts pulling off his shirt trying to position himself for what will hopefully be some awesome sex. Peter doesn’t disappoint, stripping quickly and pulling off the rest of Stiles’ clothes, tossing them far away while muttering under his breath about stink and filth and ownership and mine mine mine. It shouldn’t be hot, Peter being all crazy possessive, but Peter’s finally being all possessive and it’s about time.

From watching porn, reading articles online, self-experimentation and the sex he’s had with Peter, Stiles thinks he knows his erogenous zones. Sure, behind his ears, his nipples, a bite to his inner thigh. He knows what he likes, or at least that’s what he thought.

Peter doesn’t stop there, Peter doesn’t stop anywhere. He touches and licks and kisses every inch of Stiles, with a gentle nip on his instep, a lick on the soft, thin skin where his thigh joins his hip. He pays attention to Stiles’ neck and his nipples, grinning when Stiles moans and arches his back into Peter’s mouth. He bites just above Stiles’ bicep and licks up into the boy’s armpit then moves in for another biting kiss.

“Roll over,” Peter orders and flips Stiles onto his belly as though he weighs nothing. Peter kisses up his legs, smoothing his hands over Stiles’ hips and back, both soothing and exciting.

“Peter, god,” Stiles moans, grabbing his pillow and burying his face in it when Peter drags his tongue across his hole. “Keep doing that and stop smirking.”

“You don’t know that,” Peter says in between licks.

“You have smirky thoughts, I can feel them,” Stiles manages to say, around a mouth full of pillow.

“If you can think, I’m not doing this right,” Peter says and dives back in, spreading Stiles cheeks, licking and sucking until Stiles’ toes are curling and he can feel the spit on his balls.

“Jesus, Peter, come on,” he says, looking over his shoulder and trying to grab Peter’s hair.

“Greedy boy,” Peter says, nipping up Stiles’ back until he’s able to kiss him. He slaps Stiles’ ass and then moves Stiles so he’s almost on his side, moving one of his legs up bending it towards his stomach. “This will be more comfortable for you for the first time,” he whispers into Stiles’ ear. Then he reaches around and pumps Stiles’ cock until the boy is panting, rutting into his hand.

Peter runs his hand over the head of Stiles’ cock and then rubs his hand, damp with pre-come into Stiles’ hair.

“Peter! Gross!” Stiles cries, reaching for his head, but then stopping before he touches it. “Was that needed?”

“Yes, you smell much better now. I can think of a way for you to smell even better,” he says, stroking his own cock and grinning.

“Maybe later, now you need to fuck me,” Stiles rolls back over the way Peter placed him, and thrusts his ass up.

“Beautiful,” Peter whispers, dropping a kiss on his shoulder while he reaches over to grab a bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer. He warms some on his hand before he circles two fingers around his mate’s hole.

Stiles arches into his touch, trying to get more contact. “Oh god, Peter, come on, I’m ready, I’ve been ready for so long.”

Peter chuckles and pushes both fingers inside, twisting his hand and thrusting gently.

“Damn!” Stiles gasps, but Peter doesn’t feel any real pain, just surprise. “Whatever happened to one finger, two fingers, three fingers, dick?”

“Now you want it slow? Make up your mind.” Peter drips more lube on his fingers and slowly pushes in another. “I know you use two on yourself, don’t think I can’t smell it on you when you fuck yourself like this.”

“Well someone has to do it.” Stiles thrusts back onto Peter’s fingers and whimpers when Peter removes his fingers. “You gonna…”

“Patience, please,” Peter scolds, quickly coating his cock with some additional lube before he pushes into Stiles, thumbs rubbing his boy’s hips.

“Oh god,” Stiles moans, biting his arm.

“Don’t be quiet, I want to hear you,” Peter says, moving Stiles’ arm and kissing him. “Are you okay, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not, believe me, I’d let you know. Just fuck me for god’s sake.”

Peter chuckles again and starts to move, slowly at first, until he finds the angle that makes Stiles shout and grab the pillow. Peter noses into Stiles’ neck, and bites his shoulder with his human teeth. “Stroke yourself,” he orders.

Stiles tilts his head so Peter has more room to bite while he jerks himself off roughly and Peter puts his hand over Stiles’, coating his hand with Stiles’ come. Stiles feels him tense and Peter pulls out and ejaculates on his back, quickly collapsing on top of him.

“Man, you are weird,” Stiles mutters as Peter pulls him into his chest, so Stiles is cuddled as the little spoon, glued to Peter’s chest.

“You smelled like you’d fucked a football team,” Peter says into Stiles’ hair as he rubs his face against him. “Now you smell better, now you smell like us.”

“Okay, Wolf, if it makes you happy. And seriously, I was only with Scott.” Stiles hears his growl deep in his chest and says, “Not like that. Just hanging out and he’d probably been hanging out with the rest of the pack and…”

“Are you happy now? Did you get what you wanted, Boy?”

Stiles rolls over, facing Peter, and rubs a hand up his arm, settling it on his shoulder. “I’m happy you’re relaxed enough to have sex. I could feel you were less tense the last few days. Can you tell me what’s going on now or is it a total buzz-kill?”

Peter sighs, rubbing his face against the back of Stiles’ hand. “Thank you for being patient.”

“Of course. Now tell me what’s going on. Please.”

“I told you that I wanted to be sure we’re both safe, as I’m currently an omega and that means you are, too,” he says and pauses, waiting for Stiles’ nod. “I spoke with a few people I know in other packs, letting them know that we’ve mated, you’re training to be an emissary, and all that.”

“Okay, that sounds good. It’s good to keep up with other packs, right?”

Peter nods, and leans forward kissing Stiles’ head. “Very. When my father and then when Talia were alphas, we had alliances with several other packs. And I was recently told about a pack in Arizona that’s had a bit of a shake up. The alpha’s number two is leaving and she’ll need a replacement. I suggested we might be interested and my friend is going to mention us to Alpha Perez.”

“Arizona? You’re thinking we’d move to Arizona?” Stiles asks, trying to keep his face neutral, but he knows his heart is pounding.

“I know it’s surprising, but I think it could be good. It’s outside of Sedona, I think it’s pretty there. Their pack has an emissary, and I’m sure she’d be willing to mentor you. What do you think?”

Stiles looks down and takes a breath, gathering his thoughts. “I … I know you want to find a place where you think we’ll be safer, but Peter, I can’t leave here; I can’t leave my dad. Not right now.”

“Not now? Then when?” Peter asks quietly.

“I don’t know, but too much has changed so quickly and I just don’t feel right leaving him. And Peter…you’d go to a new pack and be a beta? That’s what you want?” Stiles tries to send calm through the bond and feels a flare back from Peter. “I know you’re concerned with being an omega here, but you’d rather be a beta somewhere unknown?”

“I could do that. It’s a good position in a strong pack,” he says, but Stiles sees his eyes flash.

“You’re meant to be an alpha, Peter. I know you won’t hurt Scott, cause it’ll hurt me, but you aren’t meant to be a beta. We just need to find the opportunity for you. And you know, you say that you’re an omega, but Scott says I’m in his pack, so since we’re mated, you’re in the pack through me.” Stiles smiles and presses against Peter, wrapping a leg over his wolf. “He’s starting to trust you, you know. He wants to, if only for me. We could figure out some ways that you can be helpful, and he’ll see that. If it ever comes to it, he wouldn’t let you flounder like an omega. Both for me and for Derek, since you’re his family.”

Peter nods, and kisses Stiles’ forehead. “Derek’s not totally on board. But he’ll do what Scott tells him.”

“Gee, you think?” Stiles says with a snort. “Derek acts like he has a crush or at least a serious case of hero worship.”

“Derek’s a good beta, that’s what he was born for. He was never meant to be the alpha.” Peter hold Stiles close, and Stiles can almost feel him thinking. “Scott needs to trust me as a wolf. Derek needs to trust me as family.”

“Okay, what do we do for that?”

“It can’t be overkill, he’s suspicious by nature. Finally, about a decade too late.” They’re both quiet for a bit and then Peter says, “While talking with other packs, I did get a couple of photos that had been taken during pack meetings or celebrations – weddings and the like. There’s a couple of pictures with Talia, I think one with both her and his dad. He might appreciate it if I shared them with him.”

“Hmm, frame them? Or that’s too much, right? Maybe just email them,” Stiles says, nodding to himself. “He’ll ask where you got them?”

“If he’s smart, he should. I can truthfully say that I’ve reached out to some of the packs the Hale pack was aligned with, and they were offered.”

“Good,” Stiles says, leaning forward for a kiss. “That might be good with Scott, too. Let him know that you have connections with potential friendly packs. Those packs might extend the alliance since you and Derek are in the pack, right?”

Peter strokes Stiles’ back, brushing his drying come off the boy’s back. “I think so, yes. There is a certain notoriety to the pack now – fighting off the alpha pack, a banshee and a kitsune. And a Hale or two. They are a good pack to be aligned with.”

He leans back and pokes Peter in the chest. “We. We’re a good pack, remember that.” He kisses Peter again, getting his second wind. “Will there be any trouble with the Arizona pack? With you backing out?”

“No, probably not, I haven’t committed yet and haven’t even spoken with their Alpha.” He rolls Stiles onto his back, kissing down his neck again, enjoying how his scent sharpens so quickly. “I can explain that my mate is young and it’s too early to leave his family; they’ll understand that with a human. Plus, I told them you’re in training, so I can say you want to stay with the emissary who’s training you – that’s not a lie, I assume?”

“No, I like her, I’d like to stay with her,” he answers, arching into Peter’s touch. “Maybe there’s something you can do to help Alpha Perez?”

“That would be good,” Peter answers, looking up from where he’s nibbling on Stiles’ belly. “I don’t know anyone who’d be a good second, but maybe I can go there occasionally until she has someone. If she needs some muscle.”

Stiles sits up a little, leaning on his elbows. “That’s what they need? A hit man?”

“Sort of,” Peter says, shrugging. “The second’s main duty is protecting the alpha, especially if things get violent.”

“You’re good at the violence part, but now I’m really glad we’re not going. But if you need to do something for them…” he trails off and shrugs.

Peter moves back up, cupping Stiles’ cheek with a gentle hand, kissing him softly. “I won’t get hurt, I have too much to live for.”

“Good, remember that, please.” He smiles as Peter lets him roll them over so Stiles can lie on top of him. “What do you think about a shower and round two?”

“Not sure why you need a shower if we’re going with round two.”

“I’ll blow you in the shower.”

Peter smirks and rolls Stiles off the bed so they both land on their feet. “Lead the way, Boy, lead the way.”  



	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting with a magic creature, learning more about himself, hunting with Peter and a talk with Lydia.
> 
> Sorry this took a while, it's a little longer than most, so there's that.

Actually, it’s not that difficult for Peter to prove himself to Scott. A couple of weeks before most of the pack leaves for college, a strix comes into town. It attacks a few people and drinks their blood, but at least no one dies.

Andrew asks Stiles if he knows what this thing might be. It attacks people when they’re walking outside and sometimes attacks people inside their homes. Peter and Stiles ask him a few questions and Andrew mentions that people have reported seeing an owl by their homes and that’s all they need to hear.

Stiles comes up with a potion that should slow it down long enough for the wolves to kill it. At least that’s the plan, which goes slightly awry when the strix attacks Kira before the drug takes hold. But he’s able to tackle Kira before the strix gets to her, letting Derek and Peter rip the bird to shreds.

“Wow, that was close! Thanks, you guys!” Kira says, leaning against a tree, catching her breath.

Peter uses a handkerchief to wipe the feathers off his claws and grins. “You’re welcome. It was mainly Stiles’ idea, of course.”

“Oh, don’t be modest,” Stiles replies, kissing his mate on the cheek. “I just put together the trapping charm. You and Derek killed it.”

Scott wipes some of the ash and strix’s blood off Kira’s face. “What was in the charm? It won’t have any side effects on Kira, will it?”

Stiles glances over at Scott, brows drawn together. “Of course not, I prepared it so it wouldn’t harm foxes or wolves. I’m not stupid, Scott.”

“Wait, did you know that Kira’d be here? Was she bait?” Scott snarls and of course looks towards Peter, ready to blame him.

“Scotty, it was my idea,” Stiles says, tugging on Scott’s arm, trying to change his focus from Peter. “We knew it attacks humans, not wolves. So we needed to be sure it had something to focus on. I thought me and maybe Kira.”

Scott scoffs and shakes his head. “You shouldn’t use yourself as bait either, Stiles. We’ve discussed this before. You’re human, you can be hurt. What would I tell your dad?”

“Playing the dad card, Scott? Kinda low.”

“Scott, you know we need to do whatever’s necessary to catch these kinds of things.” Derek shrugs and pats Stiles’ shoulder as he moves over to Kira, checking to be sure she’s okay. “No offense to the police, but they aren’t capable of catching things like this; it’s up to us. Stiles did what was needed.”

“And I felt perfectly safe with all you guys as back-up. And you know I wouldn’t put Kira in danger, nothing too serious at least,” Stiles says, grinning. He brushes a few feathers off Peter, taking his handkerchief and wiping a bit of blood off his neck.

“I spoke with the emissary from the Fitzgerald pack in Montana and they had experience with one of these, and they gave me information on how to stun one and how to kill it,” Peter offers. “Oh and Derek, I’ll forward a picture they sent to me. One of my father and your father and you. You must be four, maybe five. And you’re just so adorable.” Peter and Stiles both grin at Derek, who gets that adorable puppy dog look on his face.

They gather their weapons and start to head out. “Their pack knows about us?” Scott asks, throwing an arm around Kira and grinning.

“Certainly. The Beacon Hills pack is known by most packs in the western region,” Peter answers, tossing Stiles’ backpack into the truck of his car.

“Do you think they might be willing to form an alliance?”

Stiles feels a familiar zing through the bond as Peter says, “They might. I can ask if you’d like.”

“Yeah, that would be cool, thanks, Peter.” Scott pats both of them on the back before he helps Kira into his mom’s car. “I’m feeling better about going to Davis in a couple of weeks, knowing things will be taken care of here.”

“Sure thing, my alpha,” Stiles calls back as he shuts the car door, and rolls down the window. “And don’t think we won’t call you if we need you. You’re only a couple of hours away.”

“They’re all so touchy,” Peter whispers into Stiles’ ear, nipping on his neck as they drive away. “Shower when we get home.”

“Mouthwash, too,” Stiles answers, grinning back.

 

Stiles’ dad starts to relax as time goes on and nothing dramatic happens. No major monsters, no new deaths. And Stiles seems to be thriving living with Peter. After his initial worry about Stiles not going off to college, he’s happy to hear that Stiles is taking two on-line courses and one at the local community college. He’s up-to-date on Stiles’ lessons with the druid in San Francisco and while he doesn’t particularly like Stiles’ new tattoos, he understands why he wants them and what they’re supposed to do. One is to help focus Stiles’ magic, like an extra battery. One is to speed his healing -- not to werewolf levels, but it should be faster than the normal human. One allows him to see a person’s real self. They form a shawl across his shoulders, one that Peter likes very much.

Although Peter hasn’t told Andrew about finding Stiles in his bathroom early one morning, staring in the mirror at his reflection. Stiles doesn’t move when Peter comes in, just stares, unblinking. “Do you see it, Peter? Do you see the fox, is it back?”

“You can see the fox now, Stiles?” Peter asks quietly. “That’s all it is, it’s not a kitsune or a nogitsune; it’s just you as you’ve always been. Too clever by far, impulsive, mischievous. It’s nothing bad, it’s a part of you.”

Stiles looks at him and back into the mirror. “I came in to pee and glanced in the mirror and saw it, just for a second. I thought…”

“Don’t worry, love, come back to bed. It’s not a danger, I promise.”

Stiles glances back in the mirror for a second, but lets Peter pull him back into their bed, burrowing under the covers into Peter’s side.

The next day Stiles takes down all the mirrors in the house except the ones attached to the walls in the bathrooms. He leaves Peter’s alone and covers his with a bedsheet tacked to the wall. Peter allows it for a little over a week until he can’t stand how Stiles’ hair looks. Peter puts them back up, watching how Stiles still avoids them as much as possible.

“If you’re not happy with the tattoo, we can have it altered or removed. Or you can just learn to deal with what you see in the mirror.” He pulls off the sheet that’s covering the bathroom mirror and mutters, “That’s what I do.”

Stiles pulls him into a hug, turning them so he’s not facing the mirror. “I love how you look. Sometimes I see the wolf, and when I do, he’s happy. Very cuddly.” Peter feels him grinning against his neck, sniffing into his hair, rubbing his face against Peter’s cheek.

“You’re the only one who would ever say that. And it’s lucky I find you adorable.”

 

Things go well for a while. Stiles studies, Peter works and Beacon Hills pretends that it’s not the Hell Mouth they all know it is.

Early in November, as the leaves turn and the air starts to turn crisp, Stiles can feel something turn in Peter. Nothing he can name, just something buzzing through their bond. It’s like the anxiousness he feels as the full moon nears, but magnified. After a week of feeling like he’s been chewing on a live wire, Stiles sits Peter down for a talk.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Peter answers quickly. He shifts in his chair, and flips through channels on the TV, not settling on anything for more than a second.

Stiles grabs the remote, muting the TV. “Something’s wrong, you’re about to flip out and it’s not helping me, either. So talk, Wolf. What’s wrong and what can we do about it?”

Peter silently looks at him for a long minute, before he says, “I’m sorry, it must be annoying to you. I’d tell you, but…”

There’s a feeling through the bond Stiles hasn’t felt before; if it was his own feeling, Stiles would call it fear or insecurity. But this is Peter, so that can’t be right, Peter’s fearless. “Come on, Peter, you know you can tell me anything. I tell you all kinds of stupid things.”

Peter looks at the silent television screen. “I want to hunt something,” he whispers. “Chase something, listen to its panicked heart beat, chase it until it’s exhausted, then grab it by the throat, kill it and eat it,” he finishes and his eyes are glowing bright blue and his fangs are dropped. “Stupid?”

 _Dammit_ , Stiles thinks, _I should not be this turned on_. Peter smiles at him, either at his scent or the link through the bond or both.

“Well, okay then. So, you have a plan?” Stiles asks, scratching his ear.

“I thought you might be upset with that.” Peter grins. “Guess not. You are remarkable, Stiles,” he says, and pulls the boy into his lap, arranging him so he can nose into his mate’s neck.

“If you don’t have anything thought out, I have something that might be beneficial for both of us,” Stiles answers, rubbing his face in Peter’s hair. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to do a spell – charm? Something for Erica and I’m stuck on something that’s right up your alley.”

“Erica?” Peter asks, pushing Stiles back so they can look at each other and talk. “I like her, what do you need?”

“Well, we know how the bite cured her epilepsy, right?” Stiles pauses while Peter nods. “But she’s wondering if maybe all the meds she took before might have left her unable to have a kid.”

“Does she want a child? Now? Didn’t she just start college?”

Stiles moves so that he’s straddling Peter’s lap, able to talk to him face to face. “Yeah, no, she doesn’t want a kid now, but she said that she and Boyd have had accidents, been sloppy, you know? And she’s never gotten pregnant. So now, she’s thinking that when she wants to get pregnant, she’s wondering if it’ll be a problem.”

“And what does that have to do with what I need?”

“It is always about you,” Stiles agrees, and leans forward pecking Peter on the cheek. “So there’s a way that I can kind of …” He squints, trying to think of the right word and shrugs. “I’ll be able to tell if she can have a kid, using a kind of spell. And the spell requires blood from the womb of a wild animal. Since Erica’s a wild animal and you know how magic shit works like that.”

“Interesting,” Peter says, nodding. “Anything in particular? Does it need to be a pregnant animal?”

“Ew, no,” Stiles answers, wrinkling his nose. “Although I’m probably picking nits, but I do need a dead animal. Could be any, it’s not specified. So you need to kill something and I need something dead. It’s a win-win. You know, unless you’re the animal.”

Stiles wraps his legs around Peter when he stands, and lets Peter set him down gently on his feet. “When do you want to do this? I’m ready when you are.”

“Cool, let me be sure I’ve got everything else I need. Oh, I’ll need a jar or something for the blood,” Stiles says, turning towards the kitchen.

“I won’t be able to carry a jar, Stiles. I thought I’d bring you home something small, like a rabbit or something,” Peter says and shows Stiles a mouth full of fangs.

“I’ll carry the jar,” Stiles says from underneath the sink cabinet.

It’s Peter’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You’re going with me? Into the woods, into the dark while a wolf hunts?”

Stiles holds up an empty jam jar and says, “While _my mate_ hunts. ‘No’ is not an option. I’m in, Wolf.”

 

Peter barely makes it out of the jeep before he strips and shifts into his full wolf form, stretching and shaking out his muscles, while Stiles watches him.

“Okay, Peter, I’ll kind of follow along, but don’t worry about me, you don’t need to keep track of me.” He swings the bat he brought with him and smiles broadly. “You run and get whatever you need. I’ll see you in a bit, take your time.” He reaches over and scratches Peter between the ears, enjoying the odd feeling he gets through the bond; content, but not like human Peter. This is definitely an animal responding to him, enjoying his touch, but wild and in his element in the woods. Stiles watches as he runs off, without bothering to turn back.

He walks through the woods a bit, flashlight in his hand and bat tossed over his shoulder. Occasionally he can feel a flash through the bond, all of it happy in a simple way. He can feel when Peter chases something, most of it without any serious intent; to Peter it’s just playing. He’s glad he can’t feel the animal being chased, it’s probably not as fun being the one chased by a giant wolf.

Stiles keeps walking, following the bond and the noises of the chase until he feels Peter’s excitement peak. Then he waits, listening to growls and the noise of branches breaking as Peter slowly comes back to him, dragging an eight-point buck by its broken neck. He places it in front of Stiles, grinning up at him with sharp teeth and a bloodied muzzle.

“Well that’s just great, honey, good job. So …. Now what?”

Peter turns back to the buck and uses his claws to split open its stomach, while Stiles shuts his eyes and tries to ignore the definite squishy noises. It’s not more than a couple of minutes before the wolf butts his head on Stiles’ leg.

“Oh, so what’s that?” he asks, backing away slightly from all the blood and whatever Peter’s holding in his mouth. “Not a uterus, cause that’s a buck. So what you got there, Wolf?”

Peter takes a bite of what he’s holding, swallowing loudly and then thrusts his face towards Stiles.

“Seriously? That’s for me?” He tries to keep positive thoughts through the bond, because it’s obvious that Peter’s quite happy with his offering and mate-mate-mate pulses in Stiles’ head.

“Okay, not sure how to handle it, I don’t have those big wolfie teeth like you do,” he says, wrinkling his nose a bit, hoping it looks like he’s thinking and not trying to keep dinner in. Peter drops his offering on a pile of leaves and uses his claws to rip off a small chunk that he picks up and tries to put in Stiles’ hand.

He takes the warm, red meat and tries to figure out what it is. Liver, probably, as it has healing properties in many cultures. “Great, thank you, Peter, such a good mate.” He smiles and thinks _here goes_ , shoving the piece in his mouth and swallowing without chewing it. When he’s sure it won’t come back up, he smiles at Peter and says, “Thank you, that was… Thank you, you can eat the rest if you want.” Wolf-Peter quickly gobbles it down, along with a leaf stuck to it, and then goes back to the carcass.

“Still need a female something, if you’re up to it,” Stiles tells him, trailing his fingers along the wolf’s spine, happily free from blood.

Peter turns towards him and suddenly shifts into his human form, and against his pale skin, Stiles can see even more blood. “So how you feelin’? And congratulations, I was expecting a bunny or something, this is, umm… real big.”

“I’m excellent, thank you, this was what I needed.” Peter runs a hand over one of the buck’s antlers, and Stiles feels his respect through the bond. That’s probably good.

“I still kinda need a female something, maybe a rabbit or something?” He looks around and shrugs. “If you still have the energy.”

Peter raises an eyebrow and says, “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” Then he shifts back and runs off.

Stiles tracks him again and it’s not long before he’s back, dead rabbit in his mouth. This time, he shifts back to his human form and says, “Give me the jar and you may want to turn around, I know you’re squeamish.”

He hands it over, shutting one eye and squinting with the other. “I have to get over it, I guess, if I’m going to do more magic. Strangely enough, people’s blood no longer really bugs me as much as cute little animals.”

Peter opens the rabbit with a claw, and puts what Stiles assumes is its uterus into the jar and hands it back. “There you go, now you can assist Erica.”

“What are we going to do with Bambi’s dad?”

“I have a friend who can process the carcass for meat. He’s not all that concerned with the legalities of hunting season as long as he gets the head. I’ll call him when we get home.” Peter picks up the buck as though it weighs nothing and arranges it over a tree branch as some protection from smaller animals and insects. “I suppose I should take a run into the lake to wash off a bit. Wanna come with?”

Stiles gestures to the path by them and says, “Sure, lead the way, I don’t get tired of seeing you naked.”

 

 

One thing he has to be careful of, is not withdrawing from the world completely. Because it would be easy. His world is studies and Peter. Magic and Peter. His father and Peter. It’s been almost a year since they bonded and now he needs to make an effort to keep up with his friends, remembering how they were so important to him just a year earlier.

He sees Derek on a regular basis, doing some patrolling around the preserve and the town, looking for new baddies. But with most of the pack spread out at various colleges, it’s phone calls, texts and skyping. Texts are the easiest and he’s most likely to respond to those; it’s harder to remember to call or skype.

Over the holidays, most the pack is back in Beacon Hills and Stiles tries to attend parties and get some face-time with everyone. While still continuing his studies, both the on-line classes and magic lessons, he doesn’t get to see everyone as much as they want.

But Lydia still has her New Year’s party at her mother’s house and Stiles and Peter both go, as it’s still the social event of the season. It’s smaller than the old pre-wolf pack parties, just pack and others who are in the know; which is still a surprising amount of people.

“Stiles, I think you’ve been avoiding me,” Lydia tells him, backing him up against a wall in the kitchen.

He shrugs. “I was trying to keep you and Peter apart. I know you’re still not thrilled with him.”

She crosses her arms over her chest and looks at him thoughtfully. “True, he’s not my favorite person, but he’s your spouse – or whatever you call it. And I don’t want to let that stop our friendship.”

“It won’t. I just know he makes you uncomfortable still. We’ll get together when school’s back in for you. I can meet you at Stanford or something, you can show me around the Palo Alto.”

“I’d like that,” she says, and raises an eyebrow at him. “Will you actually show up, we’ve set up tentative plans before and you’ve always bailed on me.”

“Plans sometimes change, Lydia. It’s not my fault. There’s been things here that we need to work on or things that happen with my classes or sometimes Peter ends up making plans and…”

She interrupts him, holding up her hands in surrender. “Fine, sorry. Of course things happen, I understand that. It just seems to me that lately things happen more often with you; since you’ve been with Peter, you find ways to avoid us.”

Stiles sighs and rolls his eyes; they’re all so dramatic and self-absorbed. “I’m not avoiding you, Lydia. We’re just busy. And while Peter and I are both stronger since the bond, remember, it’s us and Derek trying to keep the peace around here.”

“You are both stronger, I understand that. Scott’s bragged about some of the spells you’ve done and even Derek mentioned how you did some protective runes on the loft,” she says softly with a small smile.

He’s familiar with this Lydia, who starts softly and then moves in for the kill, as dangerous as any of the wolves. He nods, and says, “Derek asked me if I knew any runes that I could use on the loft.”

“Peter’s stronger, too, right? Physically stronger, but more in control, right?”

Stiles nods and feels a flick through the bond; Peter checking on him, feeling his unease with the conversation with Lydia. “Yes. And I can’t imagine that you of all people would think that’s a bad thing.”

“No, of course not. You stronger and Peter under control those things both sound good.” She takes his hand and pulls him outside, sitting close to him on the swing on the patio. “Stiles, will you answer a question for me?”

Two years ago, being this close to Lydia would have been a dream come true. Now he’s wondering what she wants and how quickly he and Peter can make their excuse and leave. They probably need to stay to see in the new year, but should be able to leave shortly after that. “Maybe. Depends on the question.”

“Did you try to set the bond? You said that you’d read some of the books that Deaton gave you and you’d read about mating rituals.” She gently pushes her foot on the ground, making the swing sway slightly. It’s a cool evening, and she leans into him, assuming that he’ll be willing to share some body heat. She looks up at him and asks, “Did you recognize what he started and maybe just thought you’d see what happened? Or did you recognize it and decide you wanted the power you could get?”

He scoffs and shakes his head, putting an arm around her, pulling her closer. “Lydia, you were there, you know how I was trying to get out of the bond! Don’t you remember how we were all looking to see how to dissolve it?”

She snuggles next to him, putting her chilly hands under her arms. “I remember you talking about finding a way to break the bond. But you never actually said you didn’t want it or that you wanted to dissolve it. And the werewolves would hear only the truth; they’d hear you say everyone needed to find a way to break the bond. In the books that you’d already read, Stiles. But I don’t remember you ever saying that you didn’t want it.”

“I don’t remember every word I said, Lydia,” he says quietly. “I’m sure I must have said that we needed to break it because neither of us wanted it. And how would I have known that Peter would say something that would start it?”

“I don’t know, Stiles, it doesn’t seem like you would. Peter was obviously upset and the wolves would have heard him if he lied.” She sits back and looks at him. “Stiles, if we went into the house and you said that you hadn’t ever wanted to be mated, that starting the bond was completely accidental, would the wolves hear a lie?”

He moves away from her, lips narrowing as he says, “Of course they would, Lydia! Everyone knows it was an accident and Peter and I have made the best of the situation.”

She shakes her head and raises a perfect eyebrow at him. “Okay, Stiles, I believe you. You and Peter are a good couple, I think everyone agrees.” She rises and holds out her hand to lead him back into back into the house. “I think though…I think I’m a little scared about who you might be in another year.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They celebrate their first year anniversary by committing murder. 
> 
> Well, maybe it’s not technically a murder, because their victim is a vampire and already dead. But they kill him and Scott would certainly consider it murder.

They celebrate their first year anniversary by committing murder.

Well, maybe it’s not technically a murder, because their victim is a vampire and already dead. But they kill him and Scott would certainly consider it murder.

But then again, Scott’s at UC Davis currently studying animals’ gastrointestinal systems, so it’s up to the remaining pack to take care of things in Beacon Hills.

Andrew’s the one who asks if it could be something supernatural after the second body shows up. They’re both drained of blood and the victim’s necks have bite marks on them. Not just two fangs like you see in movies, but ripped apart like an animal attacked them. He’s hoping that this once, it really is an animal attack.

Derek nods and sips his coffee, looking at the pictures Andrew offers. “Vampire. Definitely.”

“I’m surprised we didn’t realize they were here, they must be well hidden,” Peter muses, pulling the photos over so he and Stiles can study them.

Andrew nearly spits out his coffee and asks, “They? More than one?” He scrapes a hand through his hair, just like his son does, and exhales loudly. “How many do you think?”

“Hard to tell, but usually they have a nest with a few living together,” Peter says, getting up to refill his and Stiles’ coffee. “Safer for them of course. There’s not the same number as a wolf pack, but usually at three to five, I think.” He glances over to Derek who nods again.

“How do we get rid of them?” Deputy Parrish asks. He’s included in supernatural discussions now, a good liaison for Andrew between the sheriff’s department and the magic world. Whatever the hell he is.

“Cut off their heads,” Peter and Stiles both say at the same time and then grin at each other.

“Well of course,” Andrew says and sighs again. “How do we start?”

 

Vampires can smell supernatural creatures, the same as werewolves. So the bait needs to be human – or at least close to human. Andrew volunteers and Stiles absolutely refuses to consider it. Peter and Derek back him up, knowing that losing his father would send Stiles over the edge that he teeters on so often. So it’s the three of them who need to come up with a plan.

 

Derek lopes out of the woods, just in time to see Peter wrench off the vampire’s head.

“Okay, that’s done,” Stiles says, looking at the body on the ground in front of them. “Hey, Derek, nice to see you, but I think you’re a little late. We got him.”

Derek looks at the body on the ground and watches Peter wipe his hands on his pants, annoyed look on the older man’s face. “That’s one. Like we said, they usually have a nest, a few of them …”

“Yeah, right, couldn’t be this easy,” Stiles mutters, wiping at his neck.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks, stepping forward, studying him. “You smell…I smell blood, but it’s not yours. It’s…did he bleed on you?”

Peter holds up a hand, stepping towards Stiles, wrapping a hand possessively around the back of his neck. “He’s fine, Derek. We just had to use a little trick so the vampire would go after him. After all, he doesn’t normally smell like vamp food,” he says, grinning at Stiles.

“What did you do?” Derek asks, coming closer, sniffing at Stiles, but being careful not to touch Peter’s mate in a way that would scent mark him. “It’s not your blood, but it’s fresh. Is it a spell?”

“No, couldn’t come up with one immediately, so we went to the blood bank and…” he looks at Peter and shrugs with a grin. “We made a withdrawal.”

“You robbed a blood bank?” Derek asks, eyebrows doing their normal judgmental thing.

“It was for a good cause, Derek, calm down.” Peter kicks dirt and leaves over the pile of dirt on the ground that was once a vampire and is now only powdery gray ash.

Stiles joins him, grabbing Peter’s hand and head butting his shoulder. “Yeah, haven’t you heard of the ends justifying the means?”

Derek scratches his chin and looks between the two. “Of course I’ve heard of that. Battle cry of the morally impaired, isn’t it?”

Peter smiles and rolls his eyes, kissing Stiles’ head. “You still don’t understand. I think we’re done here, Stiles and I should get home, it’s late.”

“No, we should plan to get the others in their nest tomorrow while they’re sleeping,” Derek replies, turning his back and starting back into the woods. “We can meet at my house and try to figure out where they’d be.”

“Uh, hey, I have a class that I actually need to attend tomorrow,” Stiles says, pulling out his phone to check the time. “And I’d like a shower and a few hours of sleep.”

Derek stops and shakes his head, annoyance so strong that even Stiles can smell it. “You can shower at my house and we can plan for tomorrow. We shouldn’t let these things have too long; they’ll know this one was killed and they’ll start looking for us.”

“Come on, Boy,” Peter says, wrapping an arm around Stiles’ shoulder. “Shower and a nap at Derek’s. Then we can make a plan and still have time for you to get to your class tomorrow. Is it live or on-line?”

“On-line, but it’s a group discussion I need to be on.” Stiles leans into Peter, rubbing his forehead against Peter’s cheek. “Damn, adrenaline drop hitting me. Get me a shower and at least an hour or so of sleep?”

“Fine!” Derek calls out from ahead of them. “Get a move on!”

 

“I’m guessing you have clothes we can borrow?” Peter asks, as they follow Derek into his loft. “Maybe something dark and depressing and too tight?”

Stiles snickers and starts to pull his sweatshirt over his head, showing the rust-colored stains all around his neck and throat. “And probably a plastic bag for this stuff – unless you want to run a load of wash tonight?”

“Whatever,” Derek says, helpfully. “You stink, go take a shower, I’ll pull out something for both of you.”

 “Thank you, Derek,” Peter sing-songs, pushing Stiles towards the bathroom.

“Thank you, Derek,” Stiles repeats, stumbling slightly before Peter catches him with an arm around his waist.

Derek’s head jerks up and he calls out, “Behave yourselves in there! I don’t want to have to smell anything…”

“Don’t worry,” Stiles says, turning around and stopping in the hallway. “We don’t do anything when we’re not at home. Peter’s become very protective of his bodily fluids.”

“In the shower? I’m kind of relieved and kind of thinking that’s a little extreme,” Derek says, holding out a stack of clothes for Peter to take in his less bloody hands.

“Stiles has been studying sex-magic,” Peter explains, taking the items from Derek and turning back down the hall. “Can’t be too careful.”

 

When Peter comes back into the main room, Derek is leaning over the dining room table, studying a map of the city. Stiles put the map together, glued to a cork board, along with several smaller maps to highlight various parts of the city; the industrial area, the preserve, the areas around the school and the hospital. The hot zones, in other words.

“Where’s Stiles?” Derek asks, putting a red pin in the map where they killed the vampire tonight.

“Sleeping. He’s in your guest room.” Peter looks at the maps, taking some of the smaller ones with him to the couch. “So…privacy and darkness during the day, meaning not the hospital, I hope.  Probably one of the abandoned buildings again. This town should be leveled,” he says, quirking an eyebrow at Derek.

“It’s not so bad. I think it’s quieter than it was a year ago.” He turns back to the main map, and quietly says, “You and Stiles have been together for about a year now, right? You two are better together than I expected.”

Peter raises an eyebrow, surprised that Derek would remember it, let alone acknowledge it. “Of course we are,” he says, with a smug smile. “I don’t know why you would be surprised.”

“You’re saying you expected it to work out as well as it has?”

“Well, it turns out we’re a good pair. We’re both ambitious, loyal to our pack and occasionally want to see the world burn. If I had to be mated to a human boy, I’d say I hit the jackpot.”

Derek glances over at his uncle and says, “Comforting. Thoughts on the vampire nest?”

“I’ll work on it tomorrow with Stiles, when he’s rested and he’s finished his class.” Peter looks at the maps for another minute and puts them back on the wall in their proper place. “Stiles will have an idea; he always does, you know.”

 

Stiles idea is to have Peter literally sniff out the nest.  Vampires have their own, distinct smell, neither living nor dead. They don’t generate heat or have a heart beat for Peter to hear, so the plan is that Peter finds where there’s several, going in and out of a building. There’s a heavier smell when they’ve entered a building multiple times, and it’s usually not through the front door. He can hear if there’s water or electricity in the building and tells Stiles when he’s found a location that has power, water and a heavy, recent vampire smell.

“Are you sure, Peter? Why do they need electricity? Or water? They’re dead, it’s not like they’re sweating and need to take showers or something,” Stiles whispers from outside the warehouse door. It’s just after noon, so if they’re fast and have luck, they can safely take out the nest.

“They might not _need_ showers, per se, but running water and electricity are always nice. I could live in the woods without power or electricity, it doesn’t mean that I want to, not for long,” Peter says and shrugs. “Anyway, I’m sure this is them. At least it has all the right smells.”

Stiles picks up his axe and puts it over his shoulder. “So what are we waiting for?”

“Derek?” Peter asks. As much as he hates relying on anyone, he needs to keep his mate safe and his nephew with his anger issues is good in a fight.

Stiles smiles and shakes his head. “How many do you think are in there? What’s your sniffer telling you?”

Peter shuts his eyes and takes a long moment to breathe and listen to any sounds in the building. “Four,” he finally says. “So we’re outnumbered twice over. Thoughts?”

“Dogs in there? Guards or alarms?”

“No dogs, I’d hear them. I don’t think they have guards, there’s no one human in there and the vamps will be asleep. I don’t hear anything that sounds like an electric alarm, nothing like that type of current.”

Stiles shrugs and says, “So we go in and kill the first two at the same time and then take the other two when they wake up. Cause they’ll wake up when they’re attacked, right?”

The wolf nods and lets his fangs drop. “Oh yeah. When the first one screams, they’ll all wake up.” It looks like they’re doing this; anything to make his mate happy.

“Okay, like I said, we take out the first two at the same time, then when the second two attack, we’ll be ready for them.”

“Or we could get Derek and have it be three against four.” One last attempt, no one can say he doesn’t try.

Stiles shakes his head, picks the axe up again and heads towards the door. “No, this is just us. Derek won’t want to kill them.”

“He is a disappointment sometimes, isn’t he?” Peter says, and gestures to the door. “I’m in the front. And be quiet.”

They enter the abandoned office from a door on the roof and make their way to another room, with Peter in the lead, following the smells of the vampires.

“Oh god, they’re just… on the floor?” Stiles whispers, as they finally get to the office Peter literally sniffed out. “They already look dead.”

“Well, they are,” Peter answers, shooting him an annoyed look. “What did you expect, that vampires actually sleep in coffins?”

“Maybe,” he says, quietly moving along the wall. “Start with those two?” he suggests, pointing to the two men sprawled on the floor.

Peter looks around the room, noting the other two vampires are both younger, a man and a woman, both barely out of their teens when they were turned. Not that it means much as far as their age or their strength. He moves towards the older man and shifts to his beta form, then nods towards Stiles and the man on the floor in front of him.

The boy’s gulp is audible and he hoists the axe over his head when the vampire on the floor opens his eyes and starts to sit up. “Oh shit!” Stiles shouts and brings the axe down into the vampire’s chest, which explodes in a geyser of blood. He tries to yank the axe out of the struggling man’s chest while avoiding its hands, which are reaching up trying to grab Stiles’ leg. Stiles manages to get his axe free and has enough time to get one chop to the man’s neck before he’s tackled from behind by the young vampire girl.

She shrieks, showing a mouth full of shark-like teeth and grabs him by the shoulder, pulling him away and in the struggle, he drops the slippery axe handle.

Stiles scrambles backwards holding his hands out trying to keep all her sharp teeth away from him, as she reaches to claw at his face. “Jesus Christ, bitch, get away from me!” he yells, putting his hand to her forehead and shoving her away. He watches as she flies across the room, hitting the far wall, leaving a smear of blood as she crumbles to the floor.

Peter rushes towards him and pulls Stiles up, pushing him towards the girl, who is still stunned, but quickly recovering. “Here, finish it,” Peter says, handing Stiles the axe. “Or use your magic, but make a decision and make it fast.” He steps back from Stiles and watches as his mate takes the axe and moves towards her. She virtually flies towards him and Stiles swings the axe as hard as he can and takes off her head with one blow. He turns in a circle from the force of his swing and Peter catches him by arm, pulling the weapon out of his hand, letting it drop to the floor.

“Are you okay?” he asks, taking Stiles by the chin and studying him, looking for injuries physical or mental.

Stiles nods, still panting. “I’m ‘kay,” he answers. “You? Didn’t touch you, did they?”

“No, I’m fine, nothing that won’t heal.” Peter walks over to one of the piles of dirt on the floor and nudges it with his foot. “It’s good that at least one vampire story is true; they do turn to dust when you kill them.”

Stiles nods and shudders, rubbing his face, and smearing blood down his cheek. “Yeah, I’m familiar with things that do that.”

The wolf comes back to his boy, and wraps an arm around his shoulder. “We should go. We can tell Derek that they’re gone. And without his help.” He squats down, grabbing Stiles’ axe without breaking contact. “So you killed something, Stiles. A monster, but still, it counts as ending a life or at least a sort-of life.”

“Yeah, I did. Did you see how I shoved her away with my magic?” He turns, and wraps an arm around Peter’s waist, pulling him closer. “That part was awesome, probably better than the axe.”

“It was impressive and she certainly wasn’t expecting it. Hell, I wasn’t expecting it.”

Stiles snorts and says, “Me, either frankly. I was thinking I was gonna die if you didn’t come save me. Your damsel in distress.”

“Apparently, you can save yourself.” Peter leans over, and kisses Stiles’ temple, unmindful of the blood splattered there.

Stiles nods and walks into the daylight, and the start of another year together with Peter next to him. “So when can we do this again?”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nemeton is drawing things to Beacon Hills and Peter and Stiles are taking care of the creatures. While taking care of the nemeton as well.

“What the hell is going on over there?” Scott asks Stiles, voice full of concern and righteous indignation.

“So a few more creepies came into Beacon Hills,” Stiles says, shrugging even though Scott can’t see him over the phone. “Maybe they know the all powerful savior alpha isn’t here, so they’re taking advantage. Anyway, don’t worry about it, we have it covered.”

“It just seems really weird is all,” Scott says and Stiles can picture his cute, confused face. “Do you think I should come back for a bit or something? Do you think that’ll help?”

Stiles feels a flash of annoyance from Peter through their bond and sends it back. “No, I said don’t worry about it Scotty, me and the Hale boys have it covered.”

There’s a pause and Scott finally says, “Okay, if you think so. Just try to reason with them, okay, Stiles? There’s no reason to kill them right off.”

“Of course not, Scott,” Stiles says, enjoying the new, warm buzz through the bond. Peter’s happy and that makes Stiles happy.

“Derek says that some of the things in town were more violent than normal, he said there was a satyr who ended up being really violent and they’re usually not.”

Stiles shuts his eyes and takes a breath before he says anything because ‘Derek says’ is something he’s really getting tired of hearing. “Yeah, well, what can I say? Maybe it was upset because we weren’t letting him rape everyone he wanted to, Scott. Maybe it was sniffing around your Mom and we were here to protect her and maybe that meant killing it.” He hears Scott inhale sharply and wishes that he had more of a bond to the alpha; that his bond from Peter to Derek to Scott was stronger so he’d know what he was feeling.

“Yeah, okay. Thank you, I didn’t know that. Derek didn’t tell me,” Scott’s voice trails off.

Stiles scrubs a hand through his hair and sighs. “We don’t tell you things that’ll only make you worry, bro. If we need your super alpha power, we’ll let you know, but you have to trust us to take care of the territory.” He means this, this isn’t just something to get Scott off the phone.

Scott sighs loudly and Stiles can picture his sad, crooked smile. “Okay, bro. But you know you can call me and I can be there in just a few hours.”

“Sure,” Stiles answers and thinks how much he loves his naïve, too-brave brother. “We’ll let you know if there’s anything we can’t handle.”

“’Kay. Say hi to everyone for me and I’ll talk with you in a few days,” Scott says and Stiles can hear the door open and Kira’s cheery voice.

“Bye, Scott. Bye, Kira,” he says and hangs up before Scott passes her the phone and he has to explain again what’s going on in their home town.

“Okay, so Scott’s calmed down,” Peter says, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ shoulders and pulling him back against his chest. “What’s next?”

 

The nemeton was once powerful and then cut down and shut down. Now, thanks to events starting with Paige and including the darach, it’s stronger than it’s been for a long time. But it’s still greedy and wants more; it wants tributes and more than that, it wants acknowledgement.

This is something Stiles is more than willing to give. Peter’s told him the history of the nemeton, everything he can remember and they study to find more about it. To find out what it needs to thrive and what power it’s willing to give back.

They spend time there, leaning against the stump, just relaxing or reading, keeping it company. Peter hunts animals and they leave some on the tree stump; those are gone by morning. Stiles sews together skins from other animals Peter catches to make a blanket and they sleep on it next to the tree.

He gets a tattoo of the tree on his hip, branches and leaves wrapping around his waist in the front and back. Some of the bark is mixed into the ink and Stiles swears his skin feels warmer when he’s by the tree. He practices spells and mixes potions next to the nemeton, being careful that he doesn’t accidentally tap into its power. For now, it’s all about showing the tree respect.

 

For its part, the tree does what it’s been doing for years – it brings creatures to Beacon Hills. Some of them are dangerous and rightly need to be removed; goblins and harpies and an actual succubus. Sometimes Peter and Stiles will involve Derek, either when they actually need help or if a creature vanishing without his help would be suspicious.

When they can, they let the nemeton draw it close and kill the creature there, draping the body on the altar the tree provides, letting the blood sink in to feed the nemeton’s hunger.

Some of the creatures aren’t dangerous and they try to run those off. There’s a couple of omega wolves who find themselves in town but aren’t sure why they’re there, pulled for reasons they don’t understand. Peter and Derek are usually able to run them out of town without too much bloodshed. They give the nemeton enough and understandably have some sympathy for wolves without packs.

 

“Dude, what’s going on? There hasn’t been this much activity around here since…” Scott stops and looks away quickly. “After the alpha pack left, I guess. That first year when there was all kinds of stuff happening.”

He doesn’t specifically mention the nogitsune, but Stiles is either good at reading between the lines or his thoughts automatically go there. “I guess it seems like a lot, but we have it under control, Scott.”

It’s summer, and most of the pack are back at home. Scott’s working at Deaton’s again, and Erica and Boyd also have summer jobs. Lydia stays in Palo Alto in a summer intern program, and plans to come home once a month. 

“Do you know what it is yet?” Scott asks, looking at the police photos of two bodies. Andrew no longer hides things from him, coming willingly to Stiles or Peter when he suspects something non-human might be in their town.

“It’s a wendigo,” Stiles says and nods towards Peter. “We saw it out in the preserve a couple of nights ago. Thankfully it didn’t seem to be looking for a meal.”

“They only need to eat about twice a week,” Peter says, glancing at the pictures before flipping them over and pushing them back towards Scott. “So based on the last time it killed, we should have two or three days at the most to stop it.”

Scott looks at them and asks, “How do we stop it then?”

“Cut its head off,” Stiles answers with a nod. “That always works.” He gives Peter a quick grin and says, “Good thing we didn’t think of that for you, Wolf.”

Peter pats his hand and turns back to Scott. “Yes and thanks for that. Fire also works, but I’ll confess I am more comfortable with beheading. While we have to kill it, we don’t need to torture it.”

“Why do we have to kill it at all?” Scott asks, eyes flashing red for a moment as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Have you talked with it? Told it what’s happening and why it has to leave and find another way to….”

Stiles rolls his eyes and snorts.  “Yeah, _that’ll_ work.” He shakes his head and looks to Peter whose face is perfectly neutral, although Stiles can feel his contempt for the true alpha. “Scott, they don’t want to talk. They want to eat people. With or without a nice side of horseradish sauce. No potato needed. Eating people.”

“I’m afraid he’s correct here,” Peter says calmly. “They kill. It’s what they do. It’s all they do. While wolves, even in our most feral state, can still understand what we’re doing, wendigos on the hunt, hunt. They’re truly killing machines.”

Scott snorts quietly and looks down at the table. “Maybe we should ask Derek….”

“Derek? What does he have to do with this?” Stiles asks, flopping back on the couch.

“I think what Stiles means is that we really don’t need to involve him in this one; we can take care of it, Scott. We’re the ones who saw it and we can take care of it without involving Derek in anything that he might not be comfortable with.” Peter sounds calm and Stiles can feel his annoyance flaring through the bond.

“Look, here’s the thing,” Stiles says, shooting a look to Peter. “You don’t need to be involved in this at all. You’re go to school and to work and you can just leave this to us.”

“I can’t do that,” Scott answers, anger at the edge of his voice. “You’re talking about killing things in my – in our territory!”

Stiles sighs heavily. He loves Scott, he truly does, but the boy just doesn’t understand how things work here. “Scott…Scott, here’s an idea. You let Peter and I handle this and you and Derek will be in the clear. You’re the alpha of the territory and right now you’re working to get your education to be the best little alpha you can be. And while you’re doing that, Peter and I will take care of things as best as we can. When you’re done with your schooling and ready to come back, we’ll take off and go to our own territory. You can say that you’re in charge, the killings weren’t approved and from now on things will run the way you want them to.”

“You’ll…you’ll leave? You don’t plan to stay here?” Scott asks, all puppy dog eyes that normally Stiles can’t resist.

He shuts his eyes and takes a breath to center himself, feeling Peter’s support behind him. “I don’t know that we’ll stay here, Scott. I love you, but Peter and I need to find our own territory. Or something. Our own place to be.”

“But…you belong here, Stiles. And Peter, too, since he’s your mate.” Scott sputters and looks at Peter. “Don’t you want to stay here? This is your territory and I thought werewolves were really freaky about their territories.”

“Normally, I’d say yes, but clearly we’ve all realized who the brains of this operation is,” Peter answers, giving Stiles a smile. “If we stay, it’ll be because we all agree this works for the two of us, for you and for the pack. Otherwise…”

“We’ll figure it out, when it’s the right time,” Stiles interrupts, giving Peter’s shoulder a squeeze. “But for now, you should let us handle this. What’s that called, the deniability thingy?”

“Plausible deniability,” Peter answers smoothly. “Scott’s away at school and if his pack does something he disagrees with...” Peter smiles again, his shark grin and Stiles feels warmth in his chest. “We’re rebels and he’s still gold. Best of all worlds, really.”

Scott shakes his head, and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I still don’t like it, it still doesn’t seem right.”

Stiles shrugs and says, “No idea what you’re talking about, dude. Nothing for you to like or not like.” He smiles brightly and says, “So who wants pizza?”

 

Stiles and Peter have a method worked out from hunting the other supernatural creatures who’ve made their way to their city. And it’s easy to find the wendigo when it’s looking for another meal. It’s thin, even thinner than usual, almost frail and Peter’s able to overpower it enough for Stiles to throw a quick spell at it. Peter ties its hands behind its back and tosses it in the trunk so they can take it to the nemeton.

The wendigo is weakened, from hunger, Peter’s attack and the spell that Stiles put on it. Peter pulls it out of the trunk and slams it against the side of the tree, carefully avoiding the small shoots that are growing out of the top of the flat stump.

“Do you want to do the honors?” Peter asks, one knee on the ground to catch his breath.

Stiles raises his axe and quickly cuts the monster’s head off. Another couple of swipes takes off its limbs, making it easier to dispose of the body, something they learned previously.  

They watch as the blood soaks into the ground around the tree, faster than it would happen elsewhere, as though the tree is drinking it down.

Stiles walks to the tree, ignoring the dismembered body and lies on the stump, sighing contentedly. “It likes me, Peter, can you feel it?” he asks. “I mean, it really likes me, not just tolerates me. Before, it respected me, I think. And appreciated me. The way someone sick appreciates a kindly nurse, you know?”

Peter does indeed know, remembering nurses and attendants who were in and out of his room like caring for him was a chore to be done versus those who stopped even for a minute to smooth out his blankets or brush a soft hand on his forehead.

Stiles stretches out on the stump, eyes hooded. “Come on, Peter,” his boy says, holding out a hand. “We’ve given it almost everything, we shouldn’t hold back now.”

Peter steps forward, pulling his shirt over his head. It’s covered in blood, and can’t be saved anyway. He thinks about the feeling in his chest, something not through the bond, and tries to figure out what it is. Love, as always. He toes off his shoes and undoes his belt, categorizing the curiosity and awe he often feels for his mate. As he steps out of his pants and kneels next to Stiles he realizes what the feeling is, something he hasn’t felt before – worry for what Stiles is becoming.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets what he's always wanted as a Christmas present from Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had originally posted this as a one-shot when it was the only chapter that I had written. This story is going in a direction I didn't quite have planned so it's rewritten a bit.

The fall’s been quiet with most of the pack back at college. Even Derek comments there’s not as many monsters coming into town. He thinks it’s because they’re getting a reputation that they shouldn’t be messed with. Stiles rolls his eyes and tells Peter it’s because the nemeton doesn’t need as much attention; it’s feeling more secure.  

They’re both happier, able to go to the nemeton to read or just relax the way had before, enjoying the cool weather, wrapped up in their animal skin blanket. When the rainy season begins, Peter convinces Stiles they don’t need to go as often, the tree _is_ feeling more secure, he said so himself.  Stiles agrees, saying the tree can feel them nearby. It’s not a great comfort to Peter.

 

“Hey, Peter, I need you to come with me, okay? I know it’s still a couple of weeks before Christmas, but I have your present and it won’t wait,” Stiles says, putting Peter’s drink on the table and pulling him out of his armchair.

“Stiles, there’s nothing that I want for Christmas. Remember, we discussed it,” Peter replies, putting down his book and letting Stiles drag him towards the door. They’re planning a quiet holiday; Stiles’ father is working overtime and most of the other pack members will be with their families. Perhaps they’ll get together for the annual New Year’s party. Peter hopes it’ll be a quiet holiday with lots of sex.

“We did discuss it, Peter.” Stiles says, locking their apartment door behind them, and tracing the runes in the doorframe, mouthing the words to a protection spell before they leave. “We talked about how the only thing you want is power – alpha power.”

“Yes. Did you get me that from Sharper Image?”

Stiles snorts and gets in the car that Peter gave him for his last birthday, when the jeep could no longer be repaired. “I didn’t think they were still in business. So no, but I think you’ll like your gift. It’s about time I got something special for you.”

Peter gets in the passenger seat and looks out the window as Stiles pulls out of the garage, trying not to let his suspicions flow too harshly through the bond. “I’m not sure exactly what you’re talking about. You don’t need to get me anything special. And I know my history with alphas hasn’t been exactly stellar, but at this point, I don’t want to kill any of the alphas I know.”

“I wouldn’t suggest that at all. In fact, I’d be quite upset if you tried to kill Scott again.” Conversation dwindles until Stiles pulls into the parking lot behind the abandoned train station where Derek used to squat. There’s no trespassing signs up and signs announcing that it’s finally scheduled for demolition in the spring.

Stiles pulls on a piece of loose fencing and says, “Come on, your gift’s inside. I wanted to take it to the nemeton, but it was too risky.” They both crawl through and he enters the station in front of Peter and confidently makes his way down the stairs to one of the train cars. “Oh, goodie, no one stole your present, that would have pissed me off.” He steps aside and smiles at Peter.

Tied to one of the poles is Deucalion, unconscious and wrapped in ropes embedded with wolfsbane, the smell making Peter’s eyes water. “How….how did you do this, Stiles?” Peter asks, as he walks towards the alpha.

Stiles shrugs and says, “It was a little work, but obviously manageable. Happy, sweetums?”

Peter stares at Deucalion for a moment before he looks at his mate. “Delighted. Best surprise ever. But how _did_ you do it? Not that I care much about him dying, he should die; after all, he’s one of the reasons your father was kidnapped.” Peter walks around the post studying the battered wolf.

Stiles tilts his head and says, “Maybe? Not really? If you reeeeealy stretch it?”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “Stiles. If he hadn’t distracted the pack with his alpha bullshit, we would have been able to concentrate on Jennifer. And prevented all her killings and kidnappings.”

“Good point,” Stiles says and kicks Deucalion in the side, getting a small groan. “Fucker. And he hurt your family. And made Derek give up his alpha status.”

Peter shrugs. “Sure, I’ll agree with those. Not that I need much of a reason; he’s not a good person and I’m a much better person. I’m much more deserving.” Peter looks over at Stiles, watching him stare at Deucalion. “But I am still curious about how you did this. Who do we owe?”

“I made an agreement with a witch; she taught me a spell to overpower him. I was able to create a shade – or like a shade of Scott and sent it to talk with Deucalion. Then when he touched it, I used the witch’s spell to move him here and before he got his bearings, smacked him in the head with my baseball bat. Easy-peasy.” Stiles pulls Deucalion’s head back and his eyes barely flicker.

“What did you have to give to the witch? For the spell?” Peter asks.

Stiles steps away and rubs Peter’s back. “I owe her a fang. An alpha’s fang. She’ll be able to get some serious magic out of that.”

Peter raises his eyebrow as he asks, “So you want to yank out one of his teeth first?”

“Nope. It’ll be one of yours, alpha mine. And don’t whine, you have about a hundred teeth and it’ll grow back.”

“What if you don’t deliver?” Peter asks, rubbing his mouth.

Stiles shakes his head and says, “I don’t even want to think about it. But no worries, it’s not going to happen. She’s getting the damn tooth and you know it’s a small price.” Stiles gestures at Deucalion and says, “So, anyway, he’s drugged with wolfsbane in addition to the ropes around him, that won’t be a problem, will it?”

“Not at all,” Peter says. “But be a dear though and get rid of the ropes, would you?”

Stiles pulls a knife out of his pocket and quickly cuts the ropes holding Deucalion captive. As soon as he’s tossed them to the side, Peter approaches him, pulling Deucalion’s head back by his hair.

Peter sneers at him and slaps his face to make him wake. “Deucalion. Deucalion, wake up, I want you to know who is taking your life.”

Deucalion shakes his head and his eyes start to focus, trying to jerk his head away from Peter. “Hale?” he gasps. “Don’t do this -- I’ve done nothing to you. You’re a predator, you don’t have to be…”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Peter says and pulls his claws through Deucalion’s throat. He steps to the side and the blood sprays in front of him, quickly puddling on the floor.

Peter shuts his eyes and takes a breath and Stiles can feel the power building in his chest. It’s certainly not as strong as what Peter’s feeling, but there’s a surge; a warmth and a wave of dizziness and a hit of pure power. When Peter looks over, he smiles and shifts, with his eyes glowing alpha-red. He’s not the alpha-monster he was the first time Stiles saw him, but he is bigger and more than the usual beta form that Stiles is used to. Stiles can still see his humanity underneath and knows that’s because of their mating bond – he’s the anchor that holds Peter closer to his human form, a connection that he didn’t have the last time he was an alpha.

“Say it,” Stiles say, grinning.

Peter shoots him a puzzled look and says, “Say what?” His speech has a lisp because of the fangs in his mouth and Stiles thinks it’s adorable, which he admits is a little weird. Mating bond probably. It makes the strangest things seem cute.

“Come on, wolf,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. “You know. Do it for me.”

“I’m the alpha now,” Peter sing-songs and sighs. “Happy?”

“Deliriously so,” Stiles says, stepping closer and going to his toes to kiss his spouse, ignoring the fangs that press against his lips. “I’m thinking maybe you need to take off his head so there’s no regeneration. Not that he was ever as clever as you.”

“You flatter me, please continue,” Peter says and rips the remaining skin holding the former alpha’s head to his body. He drops it on the floor and says, “Now what, boy?”

“Now for my present,” Stiles says, smiling and rubbing his hands together.

Peter shifts and he’s almost human again, eyes still glowing red and a few more teeth than comfortably fit in his mouth. “Really? Fornicate in the blood of your enemy?”

Stiles nods and rubs his hand on Peter’s arm, knowing his excitement can’t be hidden. “Blood magic is powerful and sex magic is powerful. Combine them both and we’ll both get more power.”

“And he’s enough of your enemy that the magic will work?”

Stiles shrugs as he pulls off his shirt, tossing it to the side. “Close enough. As we said, he hasn’t been good for the pack. And you killed him, so that kind of speaks of an enemy.” He looks at Peter as he undoes his belt and unzips his khakis. “Problem? Suddenly shy?”

Peter grins and pulls Stiles to his chest, kissing him deeply, mindless of his teeth cutting Stiles’ lips.

“Um, yes, Wolf,” Stiles moans, pulling at the back of Peter’s shirt, trying to get it off of him as quickly as possible, while Peter helpfully shoves Stiles’ pants down. They separate long enough to strip off the rest of their clothes before coming together again in a rough kiss. “My heart’s pounding, not sure if that’s your alpha power or just you.”

“I’m not sure either, and not sure it matters.” Peter lifts him and Stiles wraps his legs around Peter’s waist, letting Peter push his nose into his neck, teeth scraping along his shoulder. “ _In_ the blood?” he asks, pulling back far enough to look at Stiles.

“Yes, set me down here,” Stiles orders and shivers as he lies down on his back in the cooling blood on the cement floor.

Peter settles between his mate’s legs, covering Stiles’ body with his own. “Warmer?” he whispers into Stiles’ ear, and drags his tongue up Stiles’ neck.

“Um, yes,” he says, pulling Peter’s hair so he can kiss him again. “Alpha. My alpha. I can feel that you’re stronger.” He wraps his legs around Peter again and bites the wolf’s shoulder, drawing blood. “Bigger,” he smirks.

Peter pulls back and looks at his boy, whose grin shows his teeth still tinged with red. “You’re perfect,” Peter says, moving down Stiles’ body and taking his mate’s cock in his mouth, making Stiles moan and arch his back off the cold concrete.

“So good, Peter,” he mutters, fingers in Peter’s hair. “I’m so ready, need you in me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the wolf mutters, nipping gently at Stiles’ thighs. “Spit doesn’t make good lubricant.”

“Don’t worry, got it covered,” Stiles says and reaches for his discarded pants. He drags them through the pooled blood and pulls a packet of lube out of a pocket, handing it to Peter. “You’re still in control of the claws, right?”

Peter raises an eyebrow and rips open the plastic, coating his fingers and rubbing some on his erection.

“Great,” Stiles says, nodding. He squirms enough to free himself and rolls to his hands and knees, pushing his ass up in the air and resting his head on his arms. “Like this, Peter. Fuck me like an alpha.”

“Whatever that means,” Peter snorts and presses two fingers into Stiles.

“More,” he commands, pushing back against Peter’s hand. He looks over his shoulder at Peter, teeth bared in a snarl. “Come on, Peter, more!”

Peter fangs come out and he grabs Stiles’ hip with one hand, the other lining his cock up to his mate’s slick hole. He pushes in slowly and curls over Stiles’ back, mouthing the back of his neck. Stiles can feel his teeth leaving scratches on his neck, but he knows Peter won’t actually hurt him – at least not more than Stiles wants him to.

Stiles rests his head on the wet concrete and murmurs the spell he memorized months ago, back when he was waiting for the right opportunity. He feels Peter tensing behind him, his hand reaching around to stroke Stiles’ cock. Peter’s careful, making sure that his claws don’t touch Stiles and the boy smiles knowing how he’s affecting his wolf. He bucks back onto Peter’s dick and forward into his hand and repeats the spell in a whisper. “Come on, Peter, do it. Fill me up,” he gasps.

Peter stiffens and comes with a roar that echoes around the empty station. Stiles shuts his eyes, feeling the power increase in his chest and throws his head back with his own roar. He feels Peter bite his neck, his dull human teeth leaving a bruise that will show beautifully for a week.

Outside, the sky flashes with lightening and the building shakes with the boom of thunder. It’s as though the sky opens and rain pounds on the building as they both catch their breath, panting on the floor.

“Did you do that?” Peter asks kissing behind Stiles’ ear and looking towards the ceiling, watching the rain come through a hole in the roof.

“Dunno. Maybe?” Stiles says, pushing at Peter. “Get off me, can’t breathe.”

Peter moves off slowly, chuckling as Stiles gasps when he pulls out. He kisses down his mate’s back, gently biting his ass and proceeds to lick the tender hole, lapping the come that leaks out.

When Peter’s satisfied, Stiles sluggishly rolls over and holds out his hands so Peter can help him stand. “You’re a pervert, have I told you that before?” he says, stretching and cracking his back.

“Daily,” Peter replies, grinning. “And yet, you never tell me to stop when I’m eating your ass.”

“True.” He points at Peter’s cheeks. “You have some blood right here.”

Peter raises an eyebrow and leans forward, running a finger over Stiles’ forehead and showing him the dark red smudge on his finger. “Mine’s probably from your ass cheeks. I guess this is what happens when you insist on sex in a pool of blood.”

“It is a bit messy,” Stiles says, shrugging and looking around them. “Get your wallet and keys, we’ll leave the clothes. Between the floor and the spray…”

Peter raises an eyebrow again, but does as Stiles suggests. Like Stiles, he throws his clothes over Deucalion’s body, making sure everything, including the head, is in a tight pile.

“Now what?” Peter asks, looking towards his boy, his mate, his partner. His equal or maybe more. Peter briefly wonders when that idea stopped bothering him and decides it doesn’t really matter.

Stiles grins and shuts his eyes, holding both hands out towards what’s now just a pile of trash. The room gets colder and Peter can feel a pull in his chest, as though Stiles is somehow taking the air from the room. Suddenly, Deucalion and everything around him bursts into flames. Stiles whoops and jumps in the air, pumping his fists. “Did you see that, Peter? Did you feel it, could you feel it?”

“Yes, boy, I felt it. I’m still feeling it,” he says, and turns to Stiles, showing his red alpha eyes. “But I think we should probably get out of here before I burn again. Twice was enough.”

Outside it’s still pouring and they stand by Stiles’ jeep letting the rain soak them. They wash off the majority of the blood, scrubbing their hair and each other until they’re mostly clean and Stiles is starting to shiver. “California Christmas,” Stiles says, “Isn’t it great?” He wraps Peter’s arms around him and snuggles into his warmth.

The stand and watch the smoke pouring out of the station with flames coming out of the roof. The few windows that weren’t already broken explode from the heat. “Now what?” Stiles asks, getting in to the car.

“Well, I hear sirens, so I think we should leave.” Peter says, combing his fingers through his wet hair. “We should go to Derek’s. We can really shower and borrow some clothes from him. Besides, we should probably let him know the latest news.” He smiles and flashes his eyes at Stiles.

Stiles pulls out of the parking lot and drives away from the sound of sirens. “Yeah, Alpha, I’m sure this is exactly what he was hoping to find in his stocking.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack learns the news, plans are made and fangs are acquired.

A quick conversation in the car convinces them that showing up naked at Derek’s probably isn’t the best idea. Stiles pulls over and Peter gets some clothes from the trunk to wear into their apartment. So back home for a shower and change into cleaner clothes, before they go to talk with Derek. “This town should be burnt to the ground,” Peter says quietly, as they pass fire trucks on the way to their apartment.

“You always say that, but you’d hate it,” Stiles answers. “You may not want to live here forever, but you’d hate it if it were gone.”

“Perhaps. What about you?”

Stiles shrugs as he pulls into his parking space. “I’m not ready to go quite yet. Is there a plan on what to tell Scott?” He exits the car and sighs when he looks at the puddles of water they’ve both left on the seats.

“Hopefully we’ll get one conversation at a time,” Peter answers as they enter the elevator up to their apartment. Peter nods at one their neighbors, a woman who lives on the floor above them.

“That was a sudden storm, wasn’t it? Looks like you both got drenched,” she coos, tapping her umbrella on the floor of the elevator.

“I love a good thunderstorm,” Stiles smiles at her. “Maybe the next one will be longer.” The door opens and they both walk off, with a casual ‘good night’ tossed over their shoulders.

 

“Okay, let’s get cleaned up and go check on Derek,” Peter says, stripping off Stiles’ shirt as he enters their apartment. “I can already feel he’s freaking out.”

“Oh, is that what this is?” Stiles asks, rubbing his chest and following Peter into their bedroom. “Feels like there’s a hamster in a wheel in my chest.”

“Apt description,” Peter says, smirking. “That’s pretty much normal Derek. Come on, quick shower to be sure we have all your lovely blood off and then let’s go over there and get it over with.”

Stiles pulls his clothes off, wrinkling his nose at the stale smell as he tosses them in to the laundry hamper. “What about my fang? Can you pull one out?”

“No, not really, they’re kind of attached to my jaw. Probably one of the reasons they have power for spells. Ideas?” Peter asks, turning on the shower and setting towels out on the counter, while Stiles pulls out clothes for them.

Stiles steps into the shower and says over his shoulder, “I could smack you in the face with my baseball bat. That should knock out a tooth.”

“Yes, it probably would. I’d prefer we find another method,” Peter replies, stepping in and handing Stiles his shampoo, then taking his own.

They wash quickly but thoroughly, taking extra care with scrubbing between fingers and toes and places that blood settles. Stiles asks Peter to shift so he can get used to his new beta and alpha forms; there’s no time for much more than kissing, but there’s promises for later on.

 

When they get to Derek’s, there’s several familiar cars in the parking lot, including Stiles’ father’s department car.

“Oh great, this should be fun. Is there anyone _not_ here?” Stiles asks, as they make their way to the freight elevator takes them to Derek’s loft.

“Pretty much everyone,” Peter answers. “This is good, we tell everyone at once, so no one gets their feelings hurt at being the last to know.”

“Yeah, that’ll be the biggest problem,” Stiles mutters as they enter the loft.

The pack’s all crammed into Derek’s loft and Stiles has a flashback to the party where he and Peter were accidentally mated nearly two years earlier. Almost the same cast, but a much different attitude this time.

Andrew gets up from the sofa when they enter, pulling Stiles into a hug. “Are you okay? I’m not sure what’s happening, but…”

“I’m fine, Dad, I’m fine,” he answers, holding his father for an extra second or two, rubbing his face in his father’s neck, scenting him like he does with Peter. “Everything’s great, I don’t know what you were told, but we’re fine.”

“We weren’t expecting everyone to be here,” Peter says, smiling at Derek. “We’d have brought snacks.”

Derek glares at Peter. “Boyd and Erica were already here. When I felt what happened with Peter, my first thought was to be sure that Scott’s okay.”

“As soon as Derek called, I called the rest of the pack to come over. To find out who Peter killed.” Scott joins in glaring at Peter.

“Oh, no, someone’s dead?” Andrew asks, and pulls out his cell phone to see if there’s a text.

“No, don’t worry about it, Dad. Well, yeah, someone’s dead, but he was a dick anyway.” Stiles shrugs and moves past Derek into the kitchen and pulls out two bottles of water, handing one to Peter. “You’re not a very good host, Derek. Anyway, Dad, you remember that alpha pack that was here and killing everyone? Well, Peter killed their leader and so now he’s an alpha. That’s why Derek and Scott have their panties in a knot.”

“Okay….so that means that he’s the leader now?” Andrew asks, scratching his head.

Allison shakes her head and says, “No, he isn’t if Scott is still here. I know this _was_ the Hale’s territory, but…”

“Scott’s the alpha now,” Kira interrupts and Allison nods.

“But this was the Hale territory for a long time, for generations, right?” Erica asks, looking around the room, getting a grudging nod from Derek.

“That’s true,” Peter says, cocking his head and smiling at Erica.

Scott growls and his eyes flash red. “Peter, I don’t know what you’re thinking and I don’t know how you’ve screwed with Stiles’s mind, but…”

“Not my mind,” Stiles says, smiling. “He’s screwed a lot of things, but strangely enough, he leaves my mind alone.”

“Thanks, son, I needed to hear that,” Andrew says, sitting back down, scruffing his hair back. “So what does all this growling and posturing mean? As far as wolf politics go.”

“There can only be one alpha in a territory,” Lydia answers. “That’s the way werewolf packs work. If there’s two alphas, they’ll fight to be the dominant one – the only one in the territory.”

“Well, technically, Scott’s been the alpha here longer.” Isaac shrugs and moves closer to where Scott and Kira are standing. “He’s been the alpha for what? Three years?”

“And he doesn’t think killing is the answer for everything,” Allison adds, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Stiles says, flopping down next to his father and patting his leg. “Allison went a little arrow crazy a while back. No one was actually killed, but it’s not anyone’s favorite memory. But since it’s Allison, everyone acts like it never happened.”

Peter clears his throat and sits on a stool in front of the window. “If I can offer a suggestion, please?” He waits until everyone turns to him, with expressions ranging from suspicion to amusement. “Scott still needs to finish college, right? He’ll continue to be away from Beacon Hills for another two plus years. And Beacon Hills continues to pull in creatures, doesn’t it? Derek, Stiles and I have been very successful in keeping the territory safe. So I’d suggest that everything continues as it is for now. Scott goes to college, we stay here and protect Beacon Hills.”

“And when I’m done with school?” Scott asks.

“That would be time for us to find a new territory, wouldn’t it?” Peter answers with a shrug. “I think Stiles might be ready to leave around then.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow and says nothing, just looking at his son.

“We talked about moving before – back when we first got mated – but decided it wasn’t the right time. I didn’t want to leave you,” Stiles says quietly, looking down at his lap.

Peter nods and smiles as his mate. “And he’s in training, so leaving before that’s done doesn’t make sense. By the time he’s done training and Scott is done with college, that’s probably the normal age for a young man to strike out on his own. That’s what humans do, right?”

“So you’re thinking nothing would change? At least not now?” Derek asks, looking back and forth from Scott to Peter.

“Outwardly, no. Of course, I’m stronger than before and therefore, so’s Stiles. But as far as the pack’s reputation,” Peter stops and thinks for a moment, looking at Scott. “Scott’s pack is already unusual, with a banshee and a kitsune. For now, there’s two alphas in the territory, although I’m sure we’ll want to avoid each other as much as possible.”

“That’s not new,” Isaac points out, nudging Scott with his shoulder.

Scott smiles at him and taps Isaac’s shoulder. “If I agree to this – and it’s still a big if – you have promise that you won’t turn anyone. You can’t start building your pack here, Peter.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to. It would be confusing to a new wolf, who’d obviously smell you in the territory.” Peter smiles and sits on the arm of the couch next to the sheriff. “However, that doesn’t mean that if there’s an emergency I won’t act. If that’s the request.” He looks at Stiles and gets an approving flash though their bond, then says, “Andrew, if something happens to you, and you’re dying, would you want to be turned?”

“Good god, what kind of question is that?” Andrew asks the room and turns to his son. “Do you…what do you think?”

“I don’t want to lose you. Obviously I know wolves, and I can’t think of any reason for you to say no.”

“You didn’t want it,” Derek points out. “Peter offered it to you before and you said no.”

Andrew turns and looks at both Stiles and Peter, jaw dropped.

“Peter was bat shit crazy at the time, so it didn’t seem like a good idea. And remember there were hunters running around killing werewolves.” Stiles smiles at his father and his mate. “Good times.”

“Well, I guess if I’m dying, then yeah, I’d want to be turned rather than…die,” Andrew says and nods towards Peter. “Thank you.”

“Hopefully it’ll never come to that,” he looks at Scott and says, “I assume you’ll offer the same courtesy if I’m not around? Make sure my mate has a living parent.”

Scott’s eyes flash and he looks away from the group. “Yeah, if he needs it,” he finally says.

“Great! So this is all done and we’re all going to get along, right?” Stiles uses his dad’s leg to push himself up off the couch. “Now the only thing left to do is to go back home and I get to smack my hubby in the face with a baseball bat so I can get a fang that I owe a witch.”

“I’ll do it. I don’t have a baseball bat, but how about the butt of my rifle?”

Everyone turns and looks at Chris Argent and Deaton as they enter the loft. Stiles feels a flash of irritation from Peter and sends it back. Things were going so well up until now.

“No, thank you, Chris. Nice of you to offer, but I think my mate and I can handle this,” Peter says, with a smile that doesn’t touch his flashing red eyes.

“Stiles, what were you saying about owing a witch?” Deaton asks, moving towards Stiles. Peter quickly steps next to his mate, subtly keeping half a step in front of him, ignoring the quiet growl from Stiles.  

“Small payment for a spell I needed. You know, from someone who’ll actually tell me stuff?”

Erica wrinkles her nose and says, “So you need to give someone one of Peter’s teeth? That’s kinda gross.”

“It’s not just a tooth, it’s an alpha’s fang,” Stiles tells her, glancing over before he refocuses on Chris and Deaton. “As you’d imagine, they hold a lot of power for spells and talismans.”

Boyd looks at the new alpha wolf, who flashes a very toothy grin at the pair. “Yeah, good luck with that Stiles. I know you’re comfortable sticking stuff in his mouth, but not sure how you plan to get a fang out of it and stay in one piece. And that’s before he became an alpha.”

“Yeah, cute Boyd,” Stiles says with a snort. “We’ll figure it out, maybe Peter can punch himself in the face? But that’s something for home, so come on, let’s go.” He hooks his hand around Peter’s bicep and steps around the others to head for the door.

Peter stops and pulls his arm gently away from Stiles, smiling at him so his mate knows he’s not upset. “Maybe we can work on a couple of issues at once.” He turns back towards Scott, and says, “Maybe Scott would be willing to help with this. He’s probably the only one strong enough to punch me in the mouth and knock out a fang. It’ll be a show of trust on both our parts. What do you think, Scott?”

Scott frowns, brows drawn together. “You want me to hit you in the face? Not that I don’t want to, but…”

Peter can feel Stiles’ concern, even though his face looks impassive. “One punch and only one. And of course, I’ll do nothing back.”

“Frankly, I’d pay to see that,” Chris says, smirking. “I’d suggest immobilizing him somehow. Maybe Derek can hold his arms or something. Or we can chain him up somehow.” He glances over at Allison and smiles broadly. “Or wolfsbane! I have some in the trunk, we can use that to knock him out.”

Peter shoots him a look, his red eyes flashing. “Let’s go with no. Scott, what do you think? Think you can give me a punch in the mouth and knock out a tooth so Stiles can pay off his debt?”

Scott looks at his friends and then shrugs. “Sure. Not sure why we didn’t do this before.” He moves towards Peter, rolling his shoulders and shifting into his alpha face, complete with his own mouthful of teeth. “You sure, Peter? Punch in the face?”

“Mouth,” Peter slurs, shifting in to his new alpha form, glancing around the room to see the reactions. “Stiles needs a fang, not nose cartilage.”

“Okay, here goes,” Scott says, smiling broadly as he pulls back and throws everything into the punch to Peter’s face.

Peter can’t help but roar when Scott connects, falling to his knees and Scott follows him from the momentum of the punch. Everyone holds their breath until they’ve stilled, frozen as though they’re statues with Peter’s claws around Scott’s neck and Scott with his fangs inches from Peter’s neck.

Peter exhales and slowly removes his hand, the noise of his nails receding with an audible click. Scott pulls back as well, rolling over flat on his back, panting as though he’d just run a marathon.

Peter sniffs and he’s hit by the aroused smell of his mate. “Really, Stiles?” Peter asks, raising an eyebrow. Stiles just shrugs.

“Dude?” Scott says, nose wrinkled as he sits up and holds out a hand for Isaac to pull him up. “You are so fucked up.”

“That was totally hot,” Erica states.

Boyd shakes his head, and says, “You should see the porn she watches. Scares me a little.” He’s smiling proudly as he says it and presses his face into Erica’s hair.

Peter sits up and shakes his head to clear it, then reaches into his mouth and feels around for a second. “Here you go, my love,” he says and hands Stiles three fangs from the left side of his mouth, all bloody at the root end. “One for your debt, one for your own use and one for bartering next time.”

“Excellent!” Stiles crows, studying the fangs, carefully touching the sharp end. “I may give the extra to my teacher when I’m done with my studies, as a thank you gift.” He looks at Deaton and raises an eyebrow. “You know the person who actually wants to teach me how to use magic and be an emissary.”

Deaton shakes his head and moves towards Stiles. “I don’t know what you did to help Peter become an alpha again, Stiles, but I do know you’re moving into dangerous territory. You’re playing with things that you don’t understand and…”

Stiles snorts and turns away, shoving the fangs into his pocket before he grabs Peter’s hand. “Sure, that doesn’t sound a bit jealous to me, Doc. Peter, lemme see how your teeth are doing.”

“It’ll take a little before they come back,” Peter says, poking his tongue through the space left by a missing, fully human tooth.  “I expect I look like the loser in a bar fight? Very nice punch, Scott.”

“Thanks, and thanks for the opportunity.” He rubs his hand, where the cuts left by Peter’s fangs have already healed. “I do think I’d like to avoid you while I’m in town.”

Peter smiles and squeezes Stiles’ hand. “Understandable and mutual. If there’s nothing else that needs to be settled tonight, it’s been a long day and I think we’d like to leave.”

Andrew stands and holds out his arms for a hug, pulling Stiles in. He doesn’t bother to whisper, knowing it’s pointless in a room full of wolves. “Be careful, please.”

“Everything’s good, Dad, don’t worry. And love you, Dad,” Stiles says, and he and Peter leave.

 

“Drop me at the preserve, would you please?”

Stiles looks over at Peter, who is leaning back against the car seat, eyes shut. “Okay,” he says slowly. “Do you want company?”

Peter shakes his head. “No, thank you though. I think I just need to run off some energy. This has been a strange day – good, but strange.”

“Are you mad at me?”

Things like this remind Peter that no matter how powerful his mate is, he’s still young and vulnerable, with too many years of insecurity behind him. “No, I’m not mad, not at all. How could I be when I have you? I just need some time.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, turning off the exit that leads to the preserve. “You’ll get yourself home? Should I wait up?”

Peter shakes his head and pulls him into a kiss, trying to send as much reassurance as he can through their bond. “I’ll be home before dawn, you should sleep,” he says. He watches Stiles turn around and drive out, then he strips and shifts to his new, larger wolf form. He flexes his muscles and runs off into the forest, ready to test his improved strength and speed.

 

It’s still dark when Peter comes into the bedroom after his shower, dropping the towel wrapped around his waist. He gets into bed and Stiles rolls towards him, burrowing into his side.

“Good run?” he murmurs, pressing his face into Peter’s neck.

“Yes, my fox, thanks for understanding.”

Stiles stiffens for a moment before he melts back into Peter. “Fox, huh? Like smart and tricky? I’ll take that. I’ve earned it.”

“You have, my mate.” Peter stretches and rolls them onto their sides. “Derek was in the preserve, too, and so were Erica and Boyd.”

Stiles sits up, biting his lip and looking at Peter. “That’s…that’s interesting. What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know exactly. I can definitely feel the bond with Derek’s strengthened, but that makes sense as he’s family by blood. We’ll see what happens over the next couple of days. It could be nothing; he’s fiercely loyal to Scott.”

“Erica and Boyd were never really Scott’s betas, they just went to him because they needed an alpha. If they have a choice of alphas…” Stiles lies back down, nestling against Peter, but Peter can feel him thinking, puzzling over what the changes may mean. “Can we use that, do you think?

“I don’t know, I don’t mind having some support. Can you feel Scott at all?” Peter asks gently, already certain of the answer.

“Scott?” Stiles concentrates and looks up at Peter, puzzlement on his face. “I used to feel something from him, but now it’s gone. Not gone really; it’s there, but it’s closed off. It’s like he’s shut me out. He shut me out.”

Peter nods and kisses Stiles’ forehead. “You have another alpha now, so you’re not in his pack. He’s not doing it to hurt you, it’s just something that happens.” Peter feels a tinge of sadness through Stiles, and peppers kisses on his head.

“Derek must be freaking; can he feel you both, do you think?”

“Possibly,” Peter shrugs, pulling Stiles back against his chest. “I’m sure he’s not comfortable with two alphas here, it’s confusing to his wolf instinct. I don’t intend to do anything for now; I meant it when I said that I’m not planning on building a pack here. I’d like things quiet for a bit.”

Stiles sighs, adjusting his pillow and pulling the covers up to his neck. “We have things to think about, but for now, I think sleep is a good idea.”

“That’s a good start, my love,” Peter says and soon they’re both asleep.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles does a spell. People are upset. Bad things happen.

Peter stands behind his mate, arms folded across his chest. “Not that it matters, but just for the record, I want to say I think this is a very bad idea.”

Stiles stills for a moment, pen held above his notepad. “A bad idea? Why? Do you think I can’t do it?”

“No, that’s not it at all,” Peter says and sighs, taking a seat at the table next to Stiles. “I have an eerie feeling that you _can_ do it. I just don’t think it’s wise.”

Stiles shakes his head and goes back to writing notes from what he’s been reading in his latest spell book. “It’s what I want to do. And I need you and you agreed, remember?”

“I know, Stiles, and I will if you decide to do it, but I just want you to think for a minute, okay?” He reaches out and gently takes the pen from Stiles’ hand, putting it on the table to take his hand. “Please, stop for a minute?”

Stiles sighs and turns towards Peter, raising an eyebrow expectantly. “Okay, you have my full attention. What would you like to discuss?”

“What you’re doing. Why you’re doing it. I’m guessing this is something you’ve thought about for a while?”

“A little while, yes, since I read how to do the summoning last year. Just that long, it’s not like I’ve been thinking about this forever,” Stiles says and shrugs. “And why? Is that really a question, Peter? I’m doing this because I want to see my mom again. I want to be able to talk with her.”

Peter nods and feels pain through their bond, a loneliness that he can’t do anything to fix. “I understand that, but Stiles…your mother passed a while ago. I’m not sure what I think happens to everyone after death, but as she’s been gone for so long, do you think it’s fair to her to try to bring her back? Is it right to disturb her rest?”

Stiles sits quietly looking someplace over Peter’s shoulder. “I don’t know,” he finally whispers. “But I think she’d want to see me and my Dad. Be sure that we’re okay.”

“I’m sure she would want to. And I don’t know that she can’t see you both; I’m not a religious person, I don’t know what happens.”

Stiles cocks his head and pulls his hand away, crossing his arms. “But you died. You should know better than anyone what happens after death. What happened to you when you died?”

Peter thinks for a moment, trying to decide what to tell the boy. “Initially, there was nothing. I don’t remember when I started to have coherent thoughts, mostly I think it was instinct. I knew that Lydia would be able to help me come back and that’s what I focused on. Before that…I don’t think there was anything, I think it was just … blackness.”

“You didn’t see a white light or,” he pauses, shaking his head. “You didn’t see heaven or hell or anything, Peter? Nothing?”

“Nothing, I’m sorry. Although given my history and the options, I think a blank void is my best option.”

Stiles nods, lost in thought. “So maybe my mother is just floating around in a void? That’s almost worse. Why would it be bad to try to talk with her? Just for a little bit, so me and my dad can talk with her?”

“About what?”

Stiles stands wrapping his head in his arms before he pulls Peter with him to the couch. He pushes his mate down so he can straddle his lap, hiding his face in the older man’s neck. “Just talk with her. Tell her how I am, show her how we are together. Let her see dad and let him see that she’s okay. Maybe if he knows that, he’ll … he’ll finally make a move on Melissa,” Stiles says, snuffling into Peter’s neck.

“Hmm, so your dad and Melissa. She’s my mother in law, and that makes Scott my brother in law?” Peter shakes his head and kisses Stiles’ temple. “No, they can sleep together, but no marriages, okay?”

“Yeah, we’ll work on that,” Stiles says, with a quiet snort. “Have to get them past the stage of longing looks first.”

Peter strokes Stiles’ back and whispers, “You know, there’s a chance your mother won’t give you what you’re hoping for. I mean, death made me a much better person. What if your mother isn’t what you want her to be? She may not approve of you or of you and me. She may want your father to spend the rest of his life alone.”

Stiles shrugs against Peter’s neck and says, “Maybe. I don’t know, but I feel like it’s something I need to do. It’s … the last real conversation my dad had with my mom was a couple of days before she died. He stopped at the hospital before work and she said ‘Be careful and don’t worry, you’ll pass that exam.’ Cause they met in college and she was confused and thinking about that. And that’s the last thing she said to him.”

Peter strokes his mate’s hair, feeling the dampness on his neck from Stiles’ tears and the total misery through their bond. “You were with her when she died, weren’t you?” he asks gently.

Stiles sniffs and says, “Yeah. She didn’t know me at the end. I mean, I knew it was because she was sick, but the last thing she said to me was, ‘Who are you, why am I here, I want to go home.’ So even if she calls me a psycho little queer, it’d be better than that. At least she’ll recognize me.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll support you, even though I still can’t say I agree.” Peter continues to hold Stiles, rubbing his back until he feels him regain control.

“You know, if this works…when this works, I can try to bring back someone else if you want. We’ve all lost so many people.” Stiles pulls back and looks at Peter, rubbing his face in Peter’s hair, blurring the scent of his sorrow with the scent of his mate. “Your family? Laura if you want.”

“No,” Peter says firmly. “Thank you, but no. I’d have nothing to say and I don’t need to relive in the past.”

Stiles smiles and says, “Maybe she should say something to you. Apologize for being such a shitty alpha and leaving you here alone for six years.”

“Pleasant as that thought is, I think I’m willing to skip it and we’ll continue to call it even. Hales are generally terrible at apologizing.” Peter takes Stiles’ hand and sits them both back down at the table, tilting his head to look at Stiles’ notes. “Do you have what you need? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I’m working on it, few more things to get together. And yeah, you’ll be helping when it’s time.” Stiles looks at Peter, tugging on the bond between them with his mind. It’s strong and steady and Peter shoots back his reassurance, soothing the rough edges. “We have two weeks until the full moon, Peter. That’s when everything comes together.”

 

On the next full moon Peter and Stiles get to the nemeton just after sunset. There’s still things to set up and prepare for before Stiles can start the ritual. He unpacks a bag with candles, several bottles and packs of herbs carefully wrapped in linen.

“What do you want me to do?” Peter asks, looking around at Stiles’ supplies.

Stiles glances over and goes back to painting a design on the top of the nemeton, using his fingers and a thick, gray paint he’s made. “First I need to paint a protection circle, we’ll be inside that. Everyone else will be outside. After I finish that, you can paint the symbols on me. I’ll give you directions, don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” Peter says, sending reassurance. “I know you know what you’re doing. Who is everyone else, by the way?”

“My dad of course. And Scott, he’s bringing my dad. Sorry, but I think my mom would like to see him. And having the extra alpha power here will help, like an extra battery. That should be it, just those two and us.” Stiles finishes his painting and checks it against his notes. “You and I will be in the circle along with Mom. Dad and Scott will be outside it, I think it’ll be safer.”

“Good for us,” Peter says, trying to keep his worry in check. “And what do they know about what’s happening?”

“I told Scott to bring Dad here because I was doing a spell I thought they’d want to see. And asked Scott to drive since Dad doesn’t know where this is.” Stiles stands, stretching out his back and checks the sky. “Come on, painting time,” he says, pulling his shirt off as he kicks off his shoes.

“Do you need me to strip as well?” Peter asks, smoothing out his shirt. Between worrying about Stiles and the full moon, he needs to work to keep himself in control.

“Well, you’re gonna be a wolf, so yes. Now would be good, so I can get our clothes out of the way.” He waits while Peter undresses and then gathers all their items, shoving them into a waiting bag a few yards away. “I’m sorry Mom won’t be able to see you as you, but I’ll explain who you are.”

Peter looks at the supplies next to the tree and asks, “What’s next? You said I’m painting you with blood?”

“Um hm,” Stiles says, pulling out another piece of paper. “I can do most of them, but there’s ones on my back that I’ll need your help with. Nothing really complicated, so don’t worry.”

“Where’d you get the blood? Is it yours?” Peter asks, holding up the jar full of thick, dark liquid.

Stiles pulls a leaf off a small twig coming from the nemeton and shakes his head. “No, it’s werewolf blood, mixed with a little wine. We’ve got a theme going here.”

“Whose blood?”

“Erica’s. And don’t ask how. She’s a good packmate, we’ve gotta keep her when we decide what to do,” Stiles says, starting to paint up his shin.

“Long way off,” Peter mutters, looking around the clearing and keeping an eye on Stiles while he paints symbols on himself. It’s always been strangely silent here, as though birds and other animals know to keep away. He’s still not certain this is a good idea, but he’ll support Stiles. There’s a tiny part of him that thinks it might not work, although the larger part of his is sure that it will.

“Okay, your turn,” Stiles says, pulling Peter out of his thoughts. “Hey, Wolf. This is gonna be okay. It’ll be great.” He leans forward and gives Peter a soft kiss, resting their foreheads together. “Thanks for this; I know you’re not delighted by this, but…”

“But you’re my mate and you want this,” Peter says, returning the kiss. He pulls away and takes a breath. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

Stiles instructs him on what to paint where, with detailed pictures of what he’s painting and exactly where it needs to go, telling Peter what each symbol represents. Peter’s fang hangs on a silver chain around the boy’s neck and Peter moves it to paint around it.

“Nervous?” Peter asks, kneeling behind Stiles, using the frayed end of a twig to paint across his lower back. When he finishes, he kisses an uncovered place over his mate’s hip before he stands. “Now what?”

“Not nervous, exactly,” Stiles says. “Anxious. Can you feel it building, Wolf?”

Peter nods. Since they started, the air’s gotten heavier and there’s ozone strongly in the air. “How much longer until we start?”

Stiles checks the sky and says, “Soon. Can you shift, I need to take your energy into account. And Scott and my dad should be here shortly, so can you let me know when you hear Dad’s car?” He pulls Peter into a quick, shoulder only hug, careful not to smear the blood they’ve carefully painted on. “See you on the other side.”

“Love you, Boy,” Peter says and shifts into his wolf form, shaking himself out and getting a scratch on the head before he sits out of the way, off to the side watching Stiles continue his preparation.

The moon moves so it’s overhead, shining down on the nemeton and Stiles kneels down, saying, “It’s time, we need to start.” He shuts his eyes and Peter can hear him starting a chant, as the wind picks up around them.

“Jesus Christ, Stiles, what is this?” Andrew says as he and Scott enter the clearing. “Did you know about this, what is this?”

Scott shrugs and says, “I don’t know. Stiles just told me to bring you here to show you something, he wouldn’t tell me what.” He starts to move forward and Peter moves in between him and Stiles, staying within the circle that Stiles painted. Scott steps back, but his claws come out and his eyes glow red, matching Peter’s.

“Should we stop this?” Andrew whispers, stepping closer to Scott.

“I don’t know that we can,” Scott responds, watching his friend work his magic.

In front of Stiles a white light appears, hanging in the air and gradually lengthening. It spreads and slowly takes a human shape, still floating a couple of feet off the ground.  Stiles sits back on his heels and looks up at the light, which starts to look more like a person as they watch. “Mom?” he whispers. “Please come, we want to talk with you.”

“Oh my god,” Scott whispers, hearing what Stiles said. He takes a step towards Stiles again, and again Peter raises his hackles and growls quietly.

“Mom,” Andrew hears Stiles say, louder this time, looking as the spirit gains more shape. It’s obviously a woman, her long, dark hair blowing as the wind rises. Andrew recognizes the flowery dress she’s wearing, her favorite; the one that he chose to bury her in. It’s faded and torn, fluttering around what would be her shins, if she’d fully form.

She turns and looks over Stiles’ head towards Andrew, and he sees dark holes where her eyes and mouth should be. Her voice isn’t what he remembers and for that he’s thankful. It sounds like the wind whispering to him, “Why, Andrew, why?”

“Mom! Mom, I brought you back, I wanted to talk with you.” Stiles says, standing and looking up at the floating figure of his mother who continues to look over his head at Stiles’ father. “I wanted you to know that I’m okay - that we’re okay,” he says, turning and smiling at his father, not registering the shocked look on the man’s face. “I’m healthy and happy and this is Peter, my mate. He’s a werewolf and you should see him as a man, he’s great and so good for me. And Dad’s okay, he’s here, just over here.”

The spirit continues to hover over the nemeton, looking towards Andrew with her empty eyes. He struggles to swallow as she calls, “Andrew, why? Let me go.”

Before he can say anything, he hears a voice behind him say, “Holy shit.” When Andrew turns, he sees Chris Argent approach, armed with one of his vaguely legal weapons.  Alan Deaton follows him, carrying some type of gun as well.

Peter crouches down, growling and pacing back and forth in the circle as the two men move closer to where his mate is standing, while Stiles stares at the spirit of his mother. Peter hears the first click from Chris’ gun and jumps in front of Stiles, getting hit in the leg by the modified taser. He pulls himself up and roars as there’s another shot, this time from Deaton, again getting too close to Stiles.

“Give me that!” Chris says, grabbing the gun from Deaton and kneeling to take aim.

“What are you doing? That’s my son!” Andrew yells, trying to grab Chris’ arm as the hunter shoves him away.

Stiles slowly turns to look at what’s happening, as though he’s just realized that others are with them. He watches his father fight with Chris, who pulls up his weapon pointing it at Stiles. From the side he sees a glimpse of someone else, dressed all in black, lift a bow and arrow and pointing it at his mate. “Peter,” he calls and then Chris pulls the trigger and everything goes black.

 

Peter wakes up, lying on a bed with a pounding headache. It reminds him of certain mornings in college, when he drank too much the night before and went too long without sleeping. He reaches out through the bond and feels Stiles. He’s around somewhere, not too far away, maybe downstairs.

He opens his eyes, looking around the room. He’s not in his bed or even Stiles’ bed in his father’s house. It’s a narrow cot. There’s a sink attached to the wall and a steel toilet. For a minute, he thinks he’s in jail; Stiles’ father finally found a reason to arrest him.

Peter stretches and takes a breath, realizing he’s not hung over. Yes, everything hurts, but it’s different. He’s exhausted and his head is fuzzy, his limbs almost too heavy to lift.  He reaches out again to Stiles, and can tell that he’s asleep – deeply asleep, as though he’s also drugged.

He makes himself sit up and look around the room. There aren’t bars on the front of his cell, there’s what looks like plexi-glass, based on the cloudiness and scratches on the window. Peter forces himself off the bed and moves towards the front of the cell, rubbing his forehead as he gets the scent of more wolfsbane. He slumps against the wall next to the window that stretches across his cell; because that’s what this is, it’s a cell.

He remembers being here before, not in these particular cells, but he saw them when he was first hospitalized after the fire. Supposedly for treatment, if that’s what you call it. They rolled his wheelchair past these cells into a shower, where the water peeled off his dead skin over and over because the muscles underneath were so damaged. This continued until he was lucky and healed enough to allow his body to fall into a coma. Then he went to another facility, a real hospital this time. Would he have stayed in the coma for six years if he didn’t have the memories of the torture he endured here?

Now he’s back, betrayed by hunters who he should have killed when he had the chance. Argent and his bitch daughter and that jealous bastard, Deaton. He’s scared of Stiles’ skill and power and now he’s captured them. He’ll never forgot being here and now he’s back and his mate is here someplace, too, hidden away from him. He’s back in Eichen House.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew gets an update on Stiles in Eichen House. Stiles guard helpfully provides background.

“So explain this to me. Why can’t I see my son?”

Chris looks over to Deaton to explain the situation to the very pissed off Sheriff. Even out of his uniform, pacing in his living room, he still looks intimidating.

Deaton continues to look as calm as always, taking a drink from his mug of coffee. He, Chris and Andrew started out sitting at the dining room table at the start of the conversation. Derek and Scott stay sitting off to the side, acting as moral support, although it’s not completely clear who they’re supporting.

“You have to think of it as an addiction, because that’s what it is. Stiles is addicted to the power he’s gained and he needs time for withdrawal.” Deaton explains this slowly to Andrew with Chris nodding next to him.

“He’s been in there for three days; when do you expect that I can see him?” Andrew asks. “And who is supervising his treatment? There’s real doctors there that I can talk with? He was inpatient there before for a 72 hour stay and now it’s been four days and I still can’t talk with him? So when?”

“Yes, of course he has doctors, but Andrew, this isn’t exactly the same as regular medical treatment. This is a supernatural illness and he’s with other supernatural beings getting treatment,” Chris explains patiently. “So there’s medical doctors checking his vitals and doing whatever needs to be done to keep him physically healthy, but a lot of the treatment will be disconnecting him from the power he’s built up.”

Deaton nods and continues, “They’ve altered the tattoos he has that give him extra power; that’s a start. And of course, they’re separating him from Peter.

Andrew glances over to Derek who remains stone faced. “I thought that they’re in pain if they’re apart.”

“That’s part of the reason they’re both sedated right now. So the withdrawal from the magic and each other won’t be as painful,” Deaton explains.

“And the tattoos – you left the one that blocks him from possession?” Andrew asks, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I don’t know a lot about how these things work, but I know that’s one that’s important to him, whether it works or not. Knowing he has it will help keep him calm.”

Chris nods and says, “They didn’t touch that one; he doesn’t need anything that’ll make him more powerful.”

Deaton leans forward and he’s almost gentle when he says, “You understand that Stiles is very sick; he’s lost all balance with his power. He’s not able to control it.”

“He seemed pretty in control to me,” Andrew snorts. “That was…I’ve never thought anything like that could happen.” He stops and looks around the room, taking a breath before he says, “Do you think she’s…is Claudia alright? Is she back where she should be?”

“I think so,” Deaton says. “When the spell was broken, she would be able to go back where Stiles pulled her from. We did a cleansing spell to be sure she’s been released. I’m confident she’ll be fine, Andrew.”

Andrew shakes his head and scruffs his hair again, looking down at the table. “There’s treatment though? After he does the detox thing, what happens?  Therapy or something? He mentioned there was group therapy when he was in there before, even though he hated it. So do they do that or individual therapy or what happens?”

Chris shifts and glances at Deaton who nods again and says, “Yes, I’m not sure if it’s group or individual, but he’ll have treatments. The goal is to be able to release him back into a society with a more normal understanding of when and how to use his power.”

Scott glances at Derek, checking to see if he’s registering Deaton’s heartbeat going up and down and Chris, whose smell is screaming how anxious he is. Derek just keeps his usual neutral expression, although Scott can tell he’s angry.

“And Peter? He’s being detoxed from what? Stiles?” Andrew asks the two men in front of him, who both look surprised, but quickly recover.

“Basically, yes. Of course he stole his alpha power from someone and now he and Stiles are both using that power. I don’t think there’s a way to remove that from him, not without something drastic being done…” Deaton glances over at Derek, who glares at him for a moment before he shifts his eyes away. “But the doctors at Eichen House will be sure that his powers are, let’s say, tempered. At least until he and Stiles are back under control.”

“Okay, that sounds reasonable, I guess,” Andrew says, looking at Scott and Derek to see if they have any reaction. Scott’s jaw clenches, but that’s the only reaction. “Like I said, I don’t know exactly how all this stuff works, but I know Stiles clearly needs help. And if you say this is where he needs to be to get it…I guess I have to trust you, don’t I?”

Deaton smiles for the first time, nodding as he says, “Thank you, Andrew. Please believe me, we have only his best interests at heart.”

He and Chris rise to go as Andrew says, “But I’ll want to see him and Peter both, as soon as possible. And talk with his doctors.”

“Confidentiality applies, of course,” Chris interjects. “Stiles and Peter are both adults, so the doctors won’t be able to give you any information. But Alan and I will fill you in as much as possible.”

“You’ll have the information, but I can’t? I’m not sure how that makes sense,” Andrew says. “And visiting. Both of them as soon as possible. I want to make sure Stiles knows I’m not angry with him, just worried.”

“Of course,” Deaton answers as they get to the door. “We’ll let you know when it’s safe for him to have visitors.” He smiles at Andrew and says, “Thanks for understanding. Believe me, we’re doing everything we can to make sure he’s back to being healthy as quickly as possible.”

Derek and Scott move towards Derek’s car for the ride back to his loft, where the rest of the pack is waiting for news. They exchange a glance as they hear Chris say, “That did not go very well.”

“It could have gone better,” Deaton agrees as he gets into Chris’ car. “This is going to be more complex than we originally thought.”

 

Justin Laponte enjoys his job at Eichen House, even if he can’t really discuss it with his friends or family. Well, enjoy might not be exactly the right word, but it’s interesting and fulfilling. He comes from a long line of corrections officers and he worked at Salinas Valley State Prison for three years. He also has a Bachelor’s degree in psychology and the combination of experience and degree got him hired at Eichen House almost three years ago.

Initially, he was on the main floors, with what he now thinks of as the normal patients. The ones who are Eichen House for actual treatment. After the first year, he heard rumblings among some staff members that things aren’t exactly as they appear on the surface there. There’s other levels of the building where special patients are housed; they’re not regular patients and for the most part, there’s no expectation that they’ll be cured and released.

Justin’s curious. That’s always been a problem, at least according to his mother. It’s the reason he and his younger brother, Darren, were in the woods almost seven years ago. Justin had heard stories about a monster in the woods who was killing people and he talked Darren into going to investigate. They didn’t find the monster that night, but it found them at their house the next night.

Their mother was attacked and killed in a flurry of blood and screaming and Darren was bitten in his side. Justin discovered later they were bitten by a feral alpha werewolf and his mother had died from something called bite rejection. His brother was turned and somehow Justin was able to help him through the first few months until he was able to control himself; that’s how Justin learned about a wolf’s anchor. He tried to find the wolf who bit Darren, but that wolf disappeared; most likely, his was the body discovered in the woods a few days later, a victim of a “freak hunting accident”.

Now Darren’s settled in with a pack in Washington State and Justin’s been recruited to work the special floors at Eichen House. He’s not sure how management found out about his knowledge or his brother, but he was pulled into an office one day and met with someone he’d never seen before to discuss a new and challenging position, complete with a hefty pay raise.

There’s about a dozen guards who work the two floors, each monitoring about six inmates at a time. They work swing shifts so there’s coverage twenty-four hours a day, three-hundred sixty-five days a year. There’s a not-very-funny joke that the job is thirty-nine hours a week of boredom and paperwork and one hour of bowel loosening terror.

Justin starts his week the usual way, reviewing the files for his new assignments in the sub-basement of the building. Guards work with their assigned inmates for a two month stretch so they become familiar with the inmate and learn what’s normal for them. After that, they rotate to another group, which should keep them from getting too close to the inmates, who are often expert manipulators.  He’s had most of the inmates before; thankfully they don’t get a lot of new creatures in.

He does have one new inmate and studies his file. A young man who goes by Stiles, since his first name is a mash of letters Justin recognizes as Polish, although he couldn’t guess how to pronounce it. The last name, Stilinski, he does recognize - this is the Sheriff’s son. He’s heard stories about him and Justin’s suspected he could be part of a werewolf pack; he couldn’t say exactly why, but there’s just something in the pattern he recognized.

The file says the inmate has magic and he can’t control it or chooses not to. He’s pulled power from other supernatural sources, including his mate, who is in the sub-sub-basement.

Justin remembers him, he was in charge of the wolf since his arrival at the jail four days ago. Peter Hale is a famous name in Beacon Hills. Hale was one of the few survivors of a hunting attack several years ago and became an alpha sometime over the last year, the file isn’t very clear exactly when or how.

In fact, neither file is very complete. Usually, there’s details on the crimes that were committed, why the person is at Eichen House and what the guards should look out for. This is missing from both files.

It’s not unheard of to have a married couple at Eichen House, but usually they’re at least on the same floor. Sad to say, but sometimes threatening one half will make the other much more compliant.

Justin shrugs and settles down to re-read the file in front of him. In his time working on the special inmates here, he hasn’t seen a situation where the incarceration wasn’t warranted. Things usually make sense here, at least in their own supernatural way. He’ll have time to get to know Stiles and figure out what this is all about.

For now, it’s time for breakfast, so he looks to see if there’s any food warnings or allergy alerts in the file. The information is missing, same as it was for Hale’s. Although in the four days he monitored Hale, the wolf barely woke up enough to eat anything. The file says Stiles is heavily sedated, which is actually pretty normal for the first few days of confinement. Justin knows how to medicate his charges, that’s not a problem.  

Justin goes to the kitchen and fixes a plate with scrambled eggs, toast, a couple of sausages and a bottle of juice. It’s probably more than he’ll want to eat after days of sedation, but magic does take a lot of energy.

He opens the slot in the plexiglass door and slips the tray onto the ledge. “Stiles. Stiles, wake up; I have some breakfast for you. Come on and eat it while it’s warm.”

Stiles sits up a little bit on his cot, wiping an arm across his mouth. He takes a moment to focus on Justin and glances at the tray in his cell. “Not hungry,” he mutters. “Who are you?”

“I’m Officer Laponte. I’ll be taking care of you for a while,” he answers. “You should eat your food, you look like you need it.” It’s true, Stiles is pale except for the dark circles under his eyes and looks older than Justin expected.

“Don’t want food,” Stiles slurs, struggling to sit up, rubbing his chest. He’s heavily dosed with Librium, so Justin’s not surprised his movements are sluggish. “I want…I want to see Peter. And I want a lawyer.”

Justin chuckles a little and pushes the food a little further into Stiles’ cell so that the flap closes behind the tray. “Well I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but if you’re thinking you have rights, you’re locked in the wrong prison.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, kind of an info dump chapter.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Stiles are settling into Eichen House. Chris and Deaton are pressured by Andrew, who wants to see Stiles.
> 
> WARNING: Some canon-typical Eichen House abuse.

Stiles hates the boredom. Obviously, it’s not the worst thing, but it’s certainly aggravating. He’s not allowed any books or his phone and there’s no one to talk with. He’s counted the ceiling tiles, memorized the pattern on the cheap, linoleum floor and worried about the nasty smudges on the walls. Some look like blood and while he’s repulsed, he can only think of what the smell is doing to Peter.

He hasn’t found any cameras in the cells, which is good. There’s cameras out in the hallways, he can see them when he presses himself against the windows and looks down the hall. No cameras in the cell means he can do a little bit of exercise when the guard isn’t around. Stiles doesn’t want to be seen working out, in case it gets him another shot of tranquilizers or more pills. He’s tired enough with the breakfast pills and the bedtime pills, so he uses the brief periods during the day when he not feeling like a zombie to try to stay fit. It’s not a huge routine, just a few push ups and sit ups and walking around the 12 by 12 foot cell until he’s dizzy. Because at some point, they’re going to be running and needs to be ready.

His guard isn’t the worst person, as far as guards go. He’s not really chatty, but when Stiles asks how long he was he unconscious, Officer Laponte tells him four days. That means he’s been there eight days so far.

His father hasn’t been to see him since he’s been in, so that means either he’s angry or he doesn’t know Stiles is here. That doesn’t seem likely; even angry, he doesn’t think his father would let him fall off the face of the earth. It’s another puzzle and if he weren’t so tired, maybe he’d be able to figure it out.

He knows Peter’s out there, someplace in the building. Stiles can feel him through their link and he usually feels sluggish, similar to how Stiles usually feels. It makes sense, he’s probably drugged too, with the combination of wolfsbane and mountain ash that seems to be the house specialty for the supernatural population.  

When he’s the most awake and alert, pacing his cell, he tries to send reassurance to his mate, trying to let Peter know that he’s okay. Wanting to make sure Peter know that they’re getting out.

Other times, Stiles finds himself rubbing his chest, missing Peter a physical pain. The best description he can think of is that it’s like he’s hungry, but not in his stomach, it’s in his heart.

The scariest part is when he feels a sharp pain in his chest. He’s not sure exactly what that means, but whatever it is, he knows it’s not good and he misses Peter so much he could weep. But only when it’s dark and no one can see; he won’t give them the satisfaction.

 

Lynn Fontaine has worked at Eichen House for almost fifteen years. Her background is also in the prison system and she ended up on the “special unit” after one of the inmates escaped his cell and ended up attacking her. She was able to subdue him and helped his guard get him back into a more secure cell. After that, management decided she may as well work that area permanently. 

She doesn’t like her charges, and she doesn’t care who knows it. These are not humans who’ll be rehabilitated and let out in the world; they’re not human at all.

Lynn has no qualms using her taser or canisters of tear-gas, custom designed for the different monsters on the floor. Peter Hale, one of her two werewolves, gets a healthy shot of wolfsbane whenever he gets too close to the glass window. And sometimes when he’s sitting on his bunk at the back of the cell, she’ll shoot in some extra just because she can.

She doesn’t talk to him unless she has to, telling him to back away from the gate when she shoves his meals in three times a day. After the first couple of shots of gas, he seems to know not to come close, but she repeats it anyway.

He’s only spoken to her once. After his fifth day at Eichen House, when he was almost clear headed, he asked, “Stiles? Do you know where Stiles is, my mate, is he okay?”

She looked at him and said, “The boy you came in with? He tried to escape and he’s dead.”

She snickered as she walked away, hearing his quick intake of breath. He hasn’t said a word to her since.

 

“It’s been over a week, why can’t I see my son?”

Chris nods, understanding on his face. “Andrew, I know that you’re upset, I can only think of how I’d feel if Allison was hospitalized and I couldn’t see her. You must be…”

“Don’t tell me what I must be feeling,” Andrew says, pointing at Chris. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

Deaton takes a turn nodding and says, “What’s going on is he’s getting better. He’s not through his withdrawal yet, but that’s understandable, considering that he was addicted for nearly two years. That doesn’t go away overnight.”

“But he’s getting better?” Andrew asks, rubbing his knuckles.

“He is,” Chris asserts. “It’s a slow process, but he’s better than when he went in.”

Andrew exhales loudly and nods to himself. “When can I see him? Just for a few minutes.” He pauses and says, “I need him to know I’m not mad at him.”

Deaton and Chris exchange a look and Deaton says, “He’s asked not to see you. He specifically said he doesn’t want you to visit.”

Andrew’s face falls and he looks away for a moment. “But…well…why?”

“He wasn’t specific on why,” Chris jumps in. “But I think he’s embarrassed. Embarrassed about what happened and how he’s doing. That he needs to be there at all. I’m sure he’ll want to see you when he’s feeling better.” Chris leans forward and clasps Andrew’s shoulder, nodding with a small smile. “Trust me, Andrew, it’s really better for both of you to let him heal more first. You don’t need any more memories of his sickness.”

Andrew nods again, looking down at the table. “How about Peter? How is he, when can he have a visitor?”

Before Chris can say anything, Deaton states, “Peter can’t have visitors. Not now and not for the foreseeable future.”

“Why? Is he worse than Stiles?” Andrew asks.

Chris asks, “Can I ask why you want to see him? I didn’t think you were exactly a fan of his.”

“I’m not,” Andrew says, firmly. “But he’s my son’s spouse, so he’s family, and my responsibility. When I do talk with Stiles I know Peter’ll be the first thing he asks about.”

Deaton swallows and rubs his neck before he says, “Sheriff, he’s not at all well. Basically, he’s gone feral. It can happen when a wolf, especially an omega loses a spouse. He’s lost his tether, because Stiles is healing – slowly healing – and pushing him away.”

“He’s an alpha who’s an omega? I didn’t know that could happen.”

“Well, he’s never had a pack, outside of Stiles, so now, without Stiles, he has no pack.” Deaton explains. “And remember that Peter’s lost a spouse before, so he’s never been completely stable.”

“Shit,” Andrew says, running his hand through his hair as he shoves his chair back from the table. “Stiles will be devastated. He doesn’t know though?”

“No, it wouldn’t be healthy to give him all the details now,” Chris answers, glancing at Deaton. “He’s pulling away, as Alan said, but he’ll still feel the mate bond. He’ll feel that it’s not whole, that it’s not healthy. When he’s stronger, and they’re more separated, we’ll tell him what’s happened.”

“When he’s healthy,” Deaton says, “he’ll be glad to find out that the bond’s been severed. That’ll be one of the signs that he’s healed.”

Andrew scratches his head. “I didn’t think the bond could be severed; I remember everyone working to stop it when it first happened.”

“Unfortunately, this is the only way it could happen. And in this case, eventually, Stiles will be the one left whole.”

They leave a few minutes later, after promises to keep in touch and to keep Andrew updated on Stiles’ progress.

“So what about Peter?” Chris asks as they walk to their separate cars.

Deaton shrugs and raises an eyebrow. “We’ll say he had an accident, so Stilinski stops asking about him. Or maybe he really will have an accident; Eichen House is a dangerous place full of dangerous creatures. But either way he’s not going anywhere and he’s not having visitors.”

 

Justin enters the consulting office, surprised to find that Lynn’s already there. She’s talking with Dr. Baldwin, who’s in charge of all the inmates on the two special floors. There’s also two men that he doesn’t quite recognize, but Dr. Baldwin seems to know them.

“Officer Laponte, thank you for coming,” Dr. Baldwin says, nodding as he looks through a file in front of him. He doesn’t acknowledge the empty chair at the table and since Lynn’s leaning against a wall, he finds an empty space and leans back as well.

“So as I was saying, we’re having difficulty keeping the sheriff out.” The man talking looks familiar and after a minute, Justin recognizes him as Dr. Deaton, the veterinarian who used to take care of his elderly cat. He’s not at all sure why the man is here, but Baldwin seems to be interested in what he’s saying so Justin keeps on his best poker face and stands quietly.

The other man, an attractive, middle aged white man Justin doesn’t know, says, “He’s worried about his son and he’s also worried about Peter. Which I really didn’t expect. I knew we’d have trouble with Stiles, but I thought Peter…”

Lynn snorts and says, “I don’t see what the big deal is about him. I was expecting some fierce alpha werewolf; he’s a kitten. All he does is sleep and whine about his little boyfriend.”

“He’s very strong and very dangerous,” Deaton says, staring at Lynn who shrugs a shoulder and looks away.

Dr. Baldwin looks over to Justin and asks, “You had him in your area when he first came in. What do you think?”

Justin is quiet for a moment, a thousand thoughts going through his head. Stilinski in his cell, looking vacant, rubbing his very human chest. Hale drugged almost catatonic, but still able to mutter ‘Stiles’. His brother in Washington, telling Justin how happy he is with his new mate.

“I only had him the first few days and he was pretty drugged. He wasn’t aggressive or anything. He just seemed… broken.”

The attractive man snorts and says, “Have you worked with a lot of alpha werewolves before? They can snap you like twig. They’re the definition of aggressive.”

 _Oh, he’s a hunter_ , Justin realizes. He’s met them before, usually when someone new is brought in, and often they’re more dead than alive. “Yes,” he says slowly, “I’ve had several alphas in my unit. Most seemed much stronger than Hale. Of course, maybe that’s…” he stops talking and looks down, trying to decide if he should continue.

“Maybe what?” Dr. Baldwin asks.

“Maybe he seems weak because he’s separated from his mate? Maybe if we want to know how he’s really doing, what he’s capable of, we move them a little closer?”

“No,” Deaton says, shaking his head. “We’re trying to keep them apart, we’re trying to get Stiles so he doesn’t have Peter as a power source.”

“I’m not suggesting we have them in the same cell or next to each other, just maybe move Hale from the sub-sub-basement up to the same level as Stiles,” Justin says. “Of course, I could be wrong, it’s just a thought…”

“I don’t see him needing the security of the sub-sub cells,” Lynn says, crossing her arms. “Those are supposed to be the highest security and we have others who could use the cell. Like that lizard thing.”

Baldwin nods and says, “The kanima.” He turns to his two guests and explains, “Brought in a couple of days before your two. I’d like to move him down, the cells down there are a bit more secure.”

“Yes, and there’s more cameras on that level,” Deaton says, scratching his chin. “What do you think, Chris?”

The hunter exhales loudly and rubs his eyes, suddenly looking older than he did at the start of the meeting. “A kanima could certainly kick an alpha’s ass, so the more secure, the better. I’m just not sure about having them both on the same floor. It seems counterproductive.”

“The hallway’s L-shaped,” Justin says, shrugging as though he doesn’t care. “We can keep Stiles where he is; he’s almost at the end of the long arm. Put Hale at the far end of the short arm. They won’t be able to talk with each other or see each other, but we’ll be able to see if that proximity does anything to how they’re doing physically.”

Dr. Baldwin raises an eyebrow and says, “Aren’t they okay? Or as okay as expected?”

Justin feels a quick flash of anger that Baldwin doesn’t know the condition of his charges. He knows they’re dangerous and that’s why they’re here, but still, having this facility means they’ve committed to taking care of the inmates for the long term. “Stiles seems to have chest pains a lot; I assume it’s from being away from his mate.”

“We’re going to have to let Andrew visit him at some point; we can’t put it off indefinitely,” Argent says. “And if having Peter close stabilizes Stiles…”

“I still don’t like it, but let’s try it. We can always move them back,” Deaton says and the meeting is officially over.  Lynn and Justin have their instructions for the transfer.

 

It takes a couple of days to make arrangements and occupants are moved in stages. Finally, they’re ready to move Peter from the second basement up a level so he’s on the same floor with Stiles.

Lynn made sure to give him an extra dose of wolfsbane, so Peter’s easy to move to his new cell. Justin directs him, walking behind the shuffling werewolf, gently pushing him along the hallway to his new home. Peter perks up, sniffing the air as he enters his cell, holding his hands out so Justin can remove the hand-cuffs. He could break them, even in his drugged state, but he’s learned that’ll end up with a shot from the taser.

“Okay, this is your cell and if you’re good, you’ll stay here. Most of my charges are at the other end of the hall,” Justin tells him, gesturing over his shoulder. “So you’ll see another guard going back and forth, but if you need anything, ask me.”

Peter nods quickly, trying to look over Justin’s shoulder, inhaling deeply, mouth open and eye lids fluttering.

Justin gently pushes him back from the door, locking the cell and double-checking to make sure everything’s secure. “You don’t fuck with me and I won’t fuck with you, okay?”

He turns to walk away when he hears Peter clear his throat. His finger is through one of the holes in the plexi and he nods at Justin and quietly says, “Thank you.”

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Stiles have a friend on the inside.

Peter wouldn’t say his head is exactly clear, but it’s better. Just being out of the sub-basement and away from that sadistic guard makes things feel clearer. He can’t hear Stiles, there’s too much noise in Eichen House, but he feels the bond much more strongly and sometimes he can smell him. He’s not sure when or why, but it’s worth it to sit closer to the door, waiting for the smallest bit of his familiar scent to waft down the hallway.

Sometimes it’s when the guard, Laponte, comes by after seeing Stiles. And sometimes he lingers outside of Peter’s cell, almost as though he wants Peter to be able to get Stiles’ scent. For some reason, Laponte seems almost sympathetic to Peter, which makes him suspicious. Peter’s learned not to trust anyone; he only trusts his mate.  

But still, he doesn’t shoot Peter with the wolfsbane teargas the way his prior guard did and so far he hasn’t hit Peter with the taser attached to his belt. He seems able to control the guards on the other shifts so they’re not going too heavy with the wolfsbane either. And even better, Peter can tell that Stiles isn’t being tasered either. Now he just needs to try to clear his head from the drugs he’s still getting and figure out how they can get out.

 

Justin usually doesn’t talk about his job with outsiders, meaning anyone who doesn’t work at Eichen House. Even if they know about the supernatural, talking about Eichen and the things he’s seen there -- it’s not an uplifting conversation.

He talks with his brother, Darren, every week regarding other things in his life, avoiding details about his job. It seems like the right thing to do; his brother doesn’t need to know about the monsters he sees daily.

But this time, he needs some advice and Darren seems like the right person to ask.

“Darren, you have a mate, right? So, like, if you were away from her, that wouldn’t be good. It would hurt you?”

He snorts and says, “Yeah, I hate it when Emily’s away. But thankfully, we’re together a lot. I mean, we don’t have to be in the same room or anything, but if she’s out of the state working or something, there’s a…” He pauses and Darren sees him rubs his chest. “It’s empty, there’s a void. Why are you asking?”

Justin pauses, not sure how much he should say. But in the end, he’s always been able to talk with his brother, and especially now, he’s got insight that Justin just doesn’t have. “Two of my charges are a mated pair; one’s an alpha wolf and his mate is magic.”

“Huh, what did they allegedly do?” Darren asks.

“Honestly, I’m not completely sure,” Justin says, shrugging. “It’s kind of need-to-know. I know that the magic one, he’s got too much power or something. He can’t control it. At least that’s what I think it is, or what they’re saying the problem is.”

“That sounds like bullshit,” Darren says, scratching his head. “So the magic one is the pack emissary? Because they should have a lot of magical powers.”

“I don’t know,” Justin answers, sighing. “I don’t know a lot I guess. I’m trying to figure it out, between the files I have and what I can pick up from briefings we have. There is an official emissary, from the local pack, and he’s really involved in keeping them both confined. And he’s working with a hunter and…”

Darren’s eyes flash gold and he leans forward towards the phone saying, “A hunter? Justin, you’re working with a hunter?”

“I’m not _working with_ the hunter, he’s just… I don’t know why he’s involved.” Justin leans back and shakes his head, not sure if he’s already said too much or what he can say to get something that might help him figure out what’s happening at Eichen House.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re dealing with, but honestly, Justin, it’s pretty easy. You have a mated pair being kept away from each other. You have an emissary who is keeping another magic user locked up. You have a hunter who is offering to assist with all of this. All of that equals something really fucked up, bro.” Darren picks up the phone and shakes it, as though that’ll somehow jostle Justin into action.

“The mage,” Justin sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “He’s younger than you.”

Darren sits quietly, watching his brother come to his own decision.

“It’s wrong, isn’t it?”

Darren shrugs and says, “The man I know wouldn’t just let it go.”

“They’re supposed to be there for a reason. Some of the inmates there…they’re fucked up. Murderers, either because they can’t control themselves or because they like it. Cannibals. There’s wendigos, they really exist, Darren. People who kill and eat their entire family.

“Well, that’s pretty disgusting,” Darren says, wrinkling his nose. “But the pair you’re talking about, what about them? Did they do something other than be strong? And be mated? Is it just speciesism? Homophobia?”

“I don’t know, like I said, I’m not sure why they’re in. I kind of think…” he pauses, trying to process what he’s heard about his two charges. “I think they’re going to have to let the human go at some point. He’s not technically supernatural, just powerful. And his father’s the sheriff here, so I don’t know how they can keep him.”

“Shit, I wouldn’t think so. The father wants him out?”

Justin nods, “Yeah, he’s been asking to visit his son, and they’ve been giving him crap about why he can’t. That can’t last forever.”

“That’s good. What about the alpha? The father supporting him, too?”

Justin sits quietly, he knows the answer and knows how Darren will react. “I’m not sure, I think so. But I think their plan…I think they either plan to keep him locked up or kill him.”

Darren’s eyes flash again, just like Justin expected. “Justin! You have to do something. It’s gonna kill the kid if his mate’s killed. And it’s wrong and you know it.”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

“How can I help?” Darren asks. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

“Maybe…can you find out if there’s any rumors on stuff going on here? I really don’t want to let them out if they’re mass murderers and I just don’t know that.”

“Sure,” Darren nods. “There’s always gossip about other packs and I usually ignore it, but I’ll see what I can find out. Maybe you should see if there’s any suspicious animal deaths in your area before they came in.”

Justin nods, feeling more optimistic as they plan. “Yeah, I can do that. I can probably get a little intel from the sheriff’s department, I have a friend there.”

“Just don’t be too nosey or it’ll seem suspicious; you ask questions about them and then they suddenly escape.”

“Jesus Christ,” Justin says, with a snort. “I’m seriously thinking about helping people escape from prison.”

“Good job, bro,” Darren answers with a smug smile. “Mom would be proud of you.”

“Don’t pull the mom card, I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

“Yet. I’ll get back to you as soon as I know anything. Keep me posted.”

 

Justin’s in the break room reading his email when he gets a text from the front desk asking him to come down. It’s unusual, as the guards on the supernatural floors are listed in the phone directory as “Security Unit” and Justin doesn’t ever remember getting called to the main desk.

The woman at the front is young and looks confused and slightly panicky as she says, “Officer Laponte, this man is here to see his son? I don’t show him as being in here? He said something about him being in the special unit? I thought maybe you could help?”

“Sure, thanks for calling me,” he smiles at her and understands why the receptionist looks so intimidated. The sheriff’s in front of him, in full uniform, with both fists and jaw clenched.

“I want to see my son,” the sheriff says. “I’m Sheriff Andrew Stilinski, my son, Stiles is here and I demand that you let me see him.”

“Sir, could you come over here for just a minute, please?” Justin asks, gesturing to a small seating area. He doesn’t sit and doesn’t expect the sheriff to; it’s clear he’s way too angry and Justin doesn’t want to do anything to escalate the situation. “Sheriff, I’m very sorry, but you can’t see your son just now. It’s not visiting hours and he’s just had medication; he’s asleep. I understand you want to see him, but now is not the time.”

“When is the right fucking time? He’s supposed to be getting help here.” The sheriff’s face gets red as he shakes his head. “I want to talk to the person in charge.”

“Dr. Jeffrey Baldwin is in charge of his care. You should call him during regular business hours and he can tell you when you can see your son.” Justin drops his voice, unsure who might be listening. “Call him a lot. Call him until he agrees to meet with you. But you need to go now.”

The sheriff looks startled, but nods and loudly says, “Baldwin. I’ll call him.” He turns and walks towards the door.

Justin walks back over to the reception desk, giving the woman there a smile. He gives the sheriff time to get out the front door of the facility before he squats down, saying, “Oh, the sheriff dropped this, I’ll run it out to him.” He shoves his hand in his pocket to hide the fact that there was nothing on the floor and makes his way out the door, hoping he’s still in the parking lot.

“Sheriff,” he calls out to the man about to get into the county issued car. Justin knows that the cameras don’t extend into this part of the parking lot, but he’s willing to indulge his paranoia. “You dropped something.”

The sheriff looks at him and Justin sees the suspicion in his eyes; not surprising, given the man knows about the supernatural beings in Beacon Hills. “I did?”

Justin nods and presses a crumbled up piece of paper with Baldwin’s phone number written on it into his hand. “Let’s say you did.”

“Then thank you,” the sheriff says, shoving it into his pocket. “You’re one of Stiles’ guards?”

He doesn’t say orderlies or any other type of medical term; he knows what Justin’s role is in his son’s care. “Yes. Both Stiles and Peter Hale. You need to be sure you get to see Stiles. They won’t offer, they’ll try to push you off, but Baldwin’s afraid of you. He’s afraid of your power.”

The sheriff looks down and quietly says, “Are they hurting him?”

“They’re keeping the two apart and that’s hurting them both. Peter’s on a lot more drugs than Stiles, but they’re both sedated. They’re not actively hurting him, though, but you need to get him out of here.”

The sheriff leans forward and looks at Justin’s badge. “Laponte. Okay. Thank you.”

He reaches out to shake hands and Justin takes his hand, feeling the sheriff passing him something that he quickly slips into his pocket. “Justin.”

“That’s a good luck charm, if you can give it to Stiles. It’s like a rabbit’s foot. I think it’ll make him feel more comfortable,” the sheriff says.

Justin ducks his head to look at the object in his pocket and tries to keep a straight face, seeing what it is. “I’ll see what I can do. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try to get it to him.” He’s seen enough werewolf teeth when his brother was learning to control his shift that it’s easy to recognize it for what it is. Why he has it and why Stiles needs it, he’s not sure, but he’ll try to get it to him. “Have a good afternoon, Sheriff.”

“You, too and thank you,” the sheriff says before he gets in the car and drives off.

 

“Laundry change,” Justin calls out, rapping on the plexiglass wall of Stiles’ cell. “Strip your bed and shove everything through the slot.”

He leans against the wall opposite the cell, watching Stiles stumble off his bed, confusion on his face. “What? Now?”

“It’s now or the next time I have time, whenever that is. Up to you, maybe you like your own stink. I don’t care,” he says, shrugging. It’s maybe two days before he absolutely has to do bedding changes, but it is truly whenever there’s time. He’ll do the change for half his inmates tonight, so this one doesn’t stand out. 

Stiles struggles with pulling the thin sheets off his cot and strips off his pillowcase, shoving them through the narrow slot where his food trays go. He stands to the side, close enough to catch the new bedding that Justin pushes through, but not so close that he gets tasered or a shot of the tear gas that some of the guards use.

“Don’t get caught with this,” Justin mutters as he slides the clean sheets through the slot.

Stiles looks up, eyes suddenly alert as he catches the bedding. Justin sees him patting the bedding before he shoves it under his arm and makes his way back to the bed. Stiles stands for a moment, back towards him and Justin hears a quick inhale. He’s not sure what it is, but obviously the fang means something to him. The young man turns and gives Justin a quick nod before he bends over and starts making his bed.

 

“Laundry change,” Justin calls to Peter a few minutes later. As usual, the man’s standing by the door, waiting for Justin to come down the hall. “Strip your bed and put everything through the slot.” There’s a camera down the hall and he knows that if he leans against the wall, a foot to the right of the food slot, the camera will get his lower legs only.

Peter strips his bed and feeds the bedding through the slot, staring at Justin and what he’s holding. Justin kicks the bedding behind him so he can pick it up later and pushes the new sheets into the slot.

Peter’s eyes don’t quite flash like Darren’s do, but Justin suspects that’s only because of the drugs in his system. The wolf holds the bundle to his chest and drops his head to inhale the clean sheets and the lovely scent of his mate’s used pillow case.

“Go make your bed, Hale. No trouble from you, right?” Justin says.

“No trouble from me,” Peter says as he turns away. “Thank you, Justin.”

 

Justin’s spent hours on the internet trying to see why the two men are at Eichen House. There’s nothing in the regular news and his contact at the Sheriff’s office – a woman he’s dated a few times – doesn’t have any stories when he presses her after a few glasses of wine.

Darren’s reported back that the rumor mill says there’s two alphas in Beacon Hills and it was working, probably due to the emissary-in-training who is the connection to both packs. He’s supposed to be strong with a natural spark. Beyond that, the rumors talk about any number of supernaturals drawn to Beacon Hills, and apparently kicked out just as quickly. Darren’s heard that several of the more dangerous ones are supposed to have been killed, and to him, that’s okay. Justin’s not as certain, but then again, if they’re not driven out of town or killed, they’d be at Eichen House. So maybe death’s not the worst option if you’re a homicidal supernatural creature. But apparently, that doesn’t include Stiles and Peter.

 

Stiles is asleep on his cot, dreaming about Peter and the nemeton when he’s jarred awake by Justin unlocking his cell. “Wake up, Stilinski, gotta see the doctor,” he says, kicking the legs of the cot with a steel toed shoe. Stiles feels a moment of panic as his arms are pulled behind him and Justin locks handcuffs around his wrists. He tries to stay calm, remembering that the guard has never hurt him and he gave Stiles Peter’s fang. Maybe he regrets it, and that’s what this is about? He lets Justin pull him down the hall, noting when he moves to the left and then a few steps later, he’ll move to the right, almost up against a cell.

“There’s cameras in the hallway, not enough to cover everything though. Not on this floor,” Justin murmurs, barely loud enough for Stiles to hear him. “They rely on the security of the cells themselves. And drugging everyone into a stupor.”

Stiles looks into some of the cells, some with full plexi fronts like his, some more traditional with just a small window at the top.

Justin notices Stiles’ interest and says, “Those are either the less dangerous or the uglier inmates. Ones that even freak out the guards.”

“So I’m either dangerous or pretty?” Stiles asks as Justin pushes him down the hall. “Or both?”

Justin pulls his key card, attached to a thin chain, out of his pocket and says, “These cards open all the doorways; the same card works on all hallway doors. The only ones they don’t work on is the cell doors themselves.”

“Those have regular keys,” Stiles whispers, watching as Justin slots his card through the electronic lock into a marked stairwell.

Justin shoves him through the door and Stiles stumbles, but he’s caught before he hits the ground.

“Mine,” Peter growls, pulling him close, arms wrapped so tight Stiles can barely breathe.

“Oh, fuck yes, I’m yours,” he mutters back, scraping his teeth lightly down Peter’s neck and feeling Peter gnawing on his collar bone.  

Justin stands to the side and looks around nervously. “I need to take you both back, I’m sorry. I’ll try to do this again, but…”

“’S okay,” Stiles whispers. He buries his face in Peter’s neck and nips on Peter’s earlobe, enjoying the shiver it elicits. “Peter, don’t worry, we’re getting out of here.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escape from Eichen House!

Some mornings Justin wakes up and his first thought is “I’m breaking people out of jail. I’m going to become a criminal.”

And then he remembers that the people he’s breaking out shouldn’t be in Eichen House at all and he gets up and starts thinking about what to do next. Plans are coming together for when they’re out; what they need now are final plans for how to get them out of Eichen.

 

Justin tries not to be nervous when Dr. Baldwin calls him in for a meeting in his office. When he enters and Alan Deaton’s there, leaning against the wall, he hopes that it’s because the sheriff’s made some noise.

Baldwin gestures to a chair in front of his desk, while he shuffles papers around. “Officer Laponte, you’re still in charge of the Stilinski boy, right?”

“Yes,” Justin answers, shifting in his uncomfortable chair, glancing at the veterinarian who hasn’t said anything.

“We need to let his father visit, he’s been making a stink. It’ll be just a visit, maybe 30 minutes tops?” Baldwin looks over his shoulder to Deaton, who gives a small nod.

“Okay. He’s pretty calm, I haven’t had any issues with him. Are you thinking in the regular visitors’ room?”

Baldwin sighs, and scratches his chin, staring off into space. “I’m not thrilled with that, but there isn’t a visitor area for the supes. They don’t usually have visitors,” he finishes with a grin. Justin has to keep himself from smacking him.

“We’ll need to make sure that no one else is using the room. I can bring him up through the back stairs,” Justin answers. This is an opportunity for Stiles to see more of the facility and look for the best way out.

“We’ll want to make sure that he’s in restraints until he’s at the visitors’ room,” Deaton says to Baldwin, acting as though Justin’s not there.

“But not in front of the sheriff,” Baldwin says, nodding. “Do bruises heal on him, will there be marks on his wrists?”

Justin tries not to snort, amazed that Baldwin knows so little about so many things. “No, marks will show on him. I’ll keep the cuffs loose and tell him not to pull. I think he’ll listen.” He waits a minute while Baldwin and Deaton exchange looks before he says, “What about Hale? Is the sheriff seeing him as well?”

“No,” Deaton says firmly, finally acknowledging Justin. “In fact, it might be good to give him some extra wolfsbane; he may be upset if he knows his mate is off the floor.”

“I’m bringing him back to his cell afterwards, aren’t I?” Justin asks, trying to keep the spike of worry off his face. His mind starts to think how to adjust the escape plan, but he’s still hoping that somehow it won’t be needed.

“Definitely,” Baldwin says, checking again with Deaton. “I’ve authorized this as a visit, no promise that he’s leaving, at least not yet.”

“It is going to be difficult; I didn’t realize Stilinski would be stubborn,” Deaton says to Baldwin. “We’ll get through this and start working on plans for Hale.”

Justin hopes he looks curious rather than as worried as he feels. “Plans?”

“He an alpha werewolf who’s being separated from his mate. And he’ll be here for the rest of his life,” Deaton explains.

“Werewolves can live for what? At least a hundred, right?” Justin asks, trying to remember Peter’s age.

“Normally, yes. If they’re with a pack and mated, they can live to be over a hundred. But losing his second mate? When you think about it,” Deaton says, “death would almost be less cruel. But that’s for another day.”

“Right,” Baldwin says, standing up and walking towards his door, fully expecting Justin to follow. “I’ll text you when Stilinski is coming in. I trust you can make the arrangements we discussed.”

“Of course,” Justin says, nodding. “I’ll take care of everything.”

 

“Stiles!” Andrew exclaims, pulling him into a hug.

They hold each other until Stiles pulls away slightly, whispering, “Can’t breathe, Dad, you’re squishing me.”

“Sorry, kid.” Andrew steps back and wipes his eyes, pulling out a plastic chair to sit at the table. “How are you, are you okay?”

Stiles looks over to Justin, the only other person in the room. He checks quickly for cameras, and sees two of them, with their little red lights blinking. “I’m okay. I’m better. I think. I think I’m calmer.”

“Good, that’s good, son.” Andrew takes a breath, reaching to pat Stiles’ hand. “I brought you something,” he says, reaching into his inside pocket and pulling out a paperback.

“Catcher in the Rye?” Stiles asks, looking at the battered book.

“I thought you liked this when you read it before. Disdain for the phonies.” Andrew pauses, waiting until Stiles looks up, face confused. “I hope you were able to keep the last thing I brought you? And there’s a special bookmark in there for you, too. I asked Scott to give me directions, but he ended up having to take me back there.”

“Scott agreed? That’s a surprise.” Stiles carefully opens the book, seeing the two fresh, green leaves pressed inside. He runs a finger over them, feeling a tiny burst of energy. “It’s nice, thank you. Thank you very much. I’ll keep it with the other thing. Hidden.”

Andrew shrugs and whispers, “Frankly, I felt kind of stupid being there. And then guilty about taking those and then I’m talking to a tree stump. I explained it’s for you and…still felt stupid, explaining myself to a tree.”

“It’s good, thank you. And I don’t think it’ll mind. I know it won’t.” Stiles shuts the book, hoping that he can keep it; as long as he can get it back to his cell, he’ll be able to mask it, as he’s been able to mask Peter’s fang and keep anyone from seeing it.

“I was hoping it would make you feel better or more confident until I get you out of here,” Andrew says, leaning forward. He thinks Justin’s on their side, but around here, he doesn’t feel he can be too careful.

“Get out?” Stiles whispers. “You think you can get us out? How long have we been in here?”

“Twenty-two days and I’m sorry, Stiles, I’m sorry it’s been so long. I’m working on it. It’s surprising how difficult it is getting someone out of a place that isn’t supposed to even exist.”

Stiles feels a rush like there’s magic going through him. “That long? I didn’t realize. But good, thanks, Dad. This is harder on Peter; he’s being drugged more than me and the cells are made of mountain ash and…”

“You. First, I’m trying to get you out, then we’ll work to get Peter out.”

“I can’t leave him here, Dad. I can’t.” Stiles sits forward in his chair, feeling suddenly out of breath.

Andrew reaches over and takes his hand, “I understand how you feel, but getting you out is easier; you’re human and there’s only so much that they can bullshit about into keeping you here. Peter’s … well, Peter has a history.”

Stiles slumps back in his chair, pulling back his hand and staring at his father. He glances at Justin and sees him quickly look away. “I can’t leave him, Dad. If I leave Peter, I know they’ll do something to him.”

“I know you’re worried, but…”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry to have to do this,” he whispers and then he stands, knocking his chair over. “No! No! I won’t leave him, no! No!”

Justin comes behind him, pulling him away from his father and quickly injects Stiles with something that makes him slump over. “It’s just a sedative,” he tells the sheriff. “When he gets too excited, it helps calm him down.”

“Calm him? He looks catatonic,” Andrew says, moving towards Justin.

“You need to leave now, I’m sorry,” Justin tells him, holding his hand out to stop Andrew from getting any closer. He grabs the book off the table, tucking it under one of his arms, with Stiles held up under the other. “I can call someone to help you find your way out.”

Andrew watches as Justin helps Stiles out of the room and then he leaves, hoping this won’t spoil Stiles being able released.

 

“Come on, therapist visit,” Justin says, unlocking Stiles’ cell and putting the cuffs loosely around his wrists. “Watch the path,” Justin whispers, pulling Stiles along, back and forth to the wall and the cells, keeping them out of the camera’s view as much as possible. At the end of the hallway, he again opens the door to the stairwell, pushing Stiles through and into Peter’s waiting arms.

Justin gives them just a few seconds for their reunion, before he taps Stiles on the shoulder. “Sorry, but you both need to listen. We have to get you out of here and it has to be soon. They’re going to release Stiles pretty soon and…I don’t know what they plan for Peter, but I doubt it’s good.”

“Do you have a plan?” Peter asks, keeping his head buried in Stiles’ neck.

“I’m off this Friday and Saturday; I think you need to get out Friday night. I’ll give you my key card, you get down this hallway and into the stairwell. Go down one level and the door to the outside is right there.” Justin looks around the small landing and continues, “There’s cameras there, you’ll have to watch for those, but the key card works and will get you out.”

Stiles nods, rubbing the back of Peter’s head, listening to his quiet breathing. “And when we’re outside? There’s a plan?”

Justin nods, checking his watch. They can probably stay another minute or two, no more. “I’ll have plans settled by Thursday. You’ll have to get out of your cells, the cards will do the rest. Do you have the strength to do that?”

“I can get us out, between Peter’s strength and my magic, I’ve got that part,” Stiles states, nodding firmly.

“I’ll hold down the drugs between now and then. You’ll have to get out Friday before the nightly dose knocks you out.” Justin thinks of what else he needs to tell them immediately before he returns them to their locked cells. “Oh yes, and no killing.”

“Know who you’re killing,” Peter recites with a nod against Stiles’ shoulder.

Justin jerks back, looking from Peter to Stiles. “No! No killing, he understands that, right?”

“Minimal killing,” Peter amends, and Stiles feels him grin against his neck.

“It’s his idea of a joke,” Stiles says, grinning at Justin. “He’s feeling better. So now tell me, why are you doing this? What do you get out of it?”

Before Justin can say anything, Peter looks up and says, “The bite, of course. He expects the bite, don’t you?”

Justin’s quiet and looks between them. “I know you won’t be able to until the wolfsbane is out of your system.”

“And you could die. A slow, ugly, painful death.” Stiles studies the man and looks to Peter who just stares, grinning at Justin. His eyes have a faint red glow, not nearly enough to show his full alpha strength, put to Stiles, they’re beautiful. “You’re okay with this?”

Peter shrugs and says, “We need a pack; who better than someone who’s willing to break us out of prison?”

Stiles studies the guard and says, “Okay, Officer. Get us out and it’s a deal.”

 

On Thursday night Justin tries to look as calm and normal as possible, feeling like everyone is looking at him pretending to be calm and normal. He pretends to give Peter and Stiles their nightly meds, passing them Tylenol instead. They both passively take the pills and stumble to their cots as they would on every other night. Along with the Tylenol, Justin passes his key cards to Stiles and thirty seconds later, he couldn’t tell you where Stiles hid them. After the way the werewolf fang vanished in his cell, he really doesn’t want to ask.

Justin makes sure that he follows out some of his coworkers when they leave at the end of their shift so that he doesn’t need his card to get out the door. When they suggest going out for a drink after work, he agrees. He has time for one or two before he needs to confirm the next part of the plan is in place. It’s good that he’s part of the gang and acting as regular as possible. No point in spending the evening pacing his apartment; not when everything’s going according to plan.

 

Stiles doesn’t expect anyone to bother him Friday night until it’s time for his nightly pill. Justin’s been giving him fake pills for the last couple of doses, so he’s feeling fairly alert; it will take a few more days to get everything out of his system. The Friday morning dose was fine, actually it helped him to sleep all day, reserving his energy for later in the day.

There’s a time late in the evening, after dinner is shoved through holes in the door and before pills are given (with or without tasers, your choice) when the guards change shifts. For those ten minutes, there are no guards on the floor.

Stiles waits until he hears the guards leave the floor, calling to each other about the day’s events and generally shooting the shit the way workers do. When he hears the last door slam shut, he slips out of his bed and heads for the door of his cell. “Come on, help us now,” he mutters, and shoves the last leaf his father brought for him in his mouth, giving it a few chews and swallowing. He puts both hands on the door, feeling the energy build in his chest, pushes, and the door opens.

After a deep breath, he moves down the hallway to Peter’s cell, remembering when to hug the wall and when to move towards the cells. When he gets to Peter’s cell, he’s waiting next to door, small smile on his face.

“Ready?” he asks and waits for Stiles to nod. He stands to the side as Stiles puts his hands on the lock and then he pushes the door, listening to the click that echoes through the hallway as the door swings open.

“Come on, wolf, let’s haul ass.” Stiles reaches down the back of his pants and pulls out the key card, moving to the stairway door that’s just down the hall from Peter’s cell.

Peter lets himself be pushed down the hall, knowing that Stiles will remember how to avoid the cameras on this floor. “You’ve been keeping that…”

“Yeah, down my pants, the guards don’t search everywhere, thankfully.” He swipes the card through the lock and they’re in the stairwell, heading down the stairs.

“Smells like a mixture of your ass and Justin,” Peter mutters as they open the door to the sub-sub-level.

“Now isn’t the time to be weird, you know,” Stiles says over his shoulder as they enter the hallway and look around for the door that Justin said should be close.

Peter turns Stiles towards the door, remembering it from his time on this floor. “Smells like pack,” he says as they move towards the door leading them to freedom.

Before Stiles can use the card on the door, a voice behind them calls, “What the fuck?” and they turn and see Officer Fontaine behind them. She pulls out her gun with one hand and reaches for her radio with the other.

Before she can use either one, Peter’s on her, snarling and knocking her into a wall.

“Peter, come on, we have to go, leave her,” Stiles hisses, hand on the door knob, ready to swipe the card.

“She deserves to die,” he growls, staring at the unconscious woman on the floor. “Taser happy bitch.”

“First, there’s no time to gives these people what they deserve and second…” Stiles grabs his mate by the chin, pulling Peter’s face towards him. “Second, if we kill someone they will never, ever stop hunting us. Do you understand? They will hunt us until we’re both dead.”

Peter exhales a shaky breath and nods, getting a nod back from Stiles. “One second, boy,” he says and turns, giving the guard a hard kick in the stomach. “Now let’s go.”

Stiles uses the keycard a final time to open the door to the outside and they move into the outdoors, stopping for a moment to get their bearings.

“Where now? What do we do?” Stiles asks, and Peter smells the start of his fear.

“This way,” he says, pulling the boy along after him as he heads into the darkness.

“Where are we…” Lights go on around them and Stiles is able to see they’re approaching a high fence. “Fuck fuck fuck! I can’t get over that!”

“This way, come on!” Peter yells and suddenly Stiles finds himself shoved up a ladder that’s been left propped up against the tall, wooden fence. If Peter had his full strength, Stiles thinks he’d have been shot into space, but now he’s at the top of the ladder, pulling himself over with Peter quickly following.

“Now what?” Stiles has his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath and holding back a panic attack. Behind them, the guards are yelling, but it doesn’t sound like they’ve gotten outside the yard just yet.

“Wait a second,” Peter whispers, looking around and suddenly a van pulls up ahead of them, practically invisible except for the quick flash of the parking lights. “Come on, the guards have spotted the ladder.”

They push each other to the van and the van’s driving away before the door is pulled shut behind them.

“Glad you made it,” Justin says from the front passenger seat. He unrolls his window halfway down and Peter pulls in a lung-full of air and promptly starts to cough, spitting  black goop out the window.

“It’ll take a few days to get that out of your system.” Derek checks the mirror, to be sure they’re not being followed. “Keep your windows half way up, no point in being obvious about a van with escaped prisoners.”

Peter moves over so he’s plastered to Stiles’ side, face pressed to the open window. “Derek, I gotta say, it’s great to see you, dude,” Stiles says, rubbing circles on Peter’s back, while he takes in the clean, night air as well.

“Thank you both,” Peter mumbles. “Whose van is this and where are we going?”

“Boyd’s Dad’s employer’s van,” Derek answers. “As long as it’s back by morning, no one will notice it was gone.”

“And we’re going to stay with Boyd and Erica until you’re both good to travel.” Justin smiles and hands back bottles of water which Stiles takes with a grunt. “They live about an hour outside of Beacon Hills, it’ll be the perfect place to recover.”

“I like them,” Peter says, nodding as he finishes the water. “Are they coming with us when we leave?”

“They want to, assuming you’ll have them.” Derek looks over his shoulder and says, “Peter, I’m sorry, but I…”

“You’re staying, I understand. You belong here, you have a pack here.” Peter reaches forward and gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Justin told me you approached him and asked to help, so thank you for this, it’s more than enough.”

Derek taps the hand on his shoulder without looking away from the road. He just chuckles when Stiles leans forward and ruffles his hair, trying to muffle a yawn. “So we recover with Erica and Boyd. Is there a plan after that?”

“I have a brother who’s in a pack in Ellensburg, Washington,” Justin says, turning in his seat. “He’s there with his mate, and we’ve been talking and he thinks we could go there.”

Stiles gives the rest of his water to Peter and says, “If he’s in a pack, his alpha might have some other ideas.”

“You’ll be coming in with an alpha, an emissary and three betas. I think you’ll do fine,” Derek says.

“Along with my brother and his mate on the inside; he says they’re all up for a coup.”

Derek turns around with a huge smile on his face. “You’re both going to just love who their current alpha is.”

“Washington?” Peter pulls himself up between the two front seats, looking between the two men. “The guy who thought he could steal Stiles from us? He’s the alpha?”

“He _was_ the alpha!” Stiles says, chuckling and pulling Peter back into his arms. “Oh shit, this is gonna be fun!”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look it's an epilogue! I like epilogues. 
> 
> So this is three years after Stiles and Peter escape from Eichen House.

Three Years Later

“Okay, so you think we should put it to a vote?” Lydia asks Scott as they make their way to Derek’s loft.

“Well, I don’t want to force anyone. I’m okay with it, hell, I’m looking forward to it. But maybe some people…” He trails off and looks at Lydia then asks, “You’re okay with it, right?”

She shrugs and says, “Of course, but I’ve been talking with Stiles since they got settled in Washington. I’m up to date, and that helps.”

Scott holds the door open for her and before they enter he says, “I’ll start and then you explain what’s going on and then I’ll ask if everyone’s okay.”

Lydia smiles, taking her tablet out of her bag and setting into her normal seat in the living room while she waits for Scott to provide the introduction as the informal McCall-Hale pack meeting begins.

 

“As part of our pack’s ongoing treaties with other packs, I’ve been keeping in touch with Stiles’ pack in Washington.” Lydia looks around the room to make sure everyone knows who she’s talking about, focusing on Liam and Mason, who both nod. “We correspond fairly regularly by email and less frequently by phone calls. Not only do we have a treaty with the Hale pack of Washington, but Stiles is still my friend. And now he and Peter have asked for permission to visit our territory. Stiles’ father still lives here, of course, and although both he and Derek have been to visit them, they haven’t been back here since they left.”

Mason holds up a hand and waits for Lydia to acknowledge him. “Umm, so speaking as your new pack emissary, aren’t they the guys who killed your old pack emissary?”

“Deaton was killed in a car accident,” Derek states flatly. “It was investigated and found to be an accident.”

“Investigated by Sheriff Stilinski, who just happens to be Stiles’ father,” Allison offers, with a quiet snort. “I’m not saying that he’d fake the report, because I don’t think he would, but still. Deaton wasn’t drinking and yet, for some unknown reason, his car just ran off the road into a light pole?”

“Not making me feel any better,” Mason mutters, earning him a pat on the leg from Liam.

“So what have you been telling them about us?” Liam asks.

“That we’ve grown. That you and Jordan and Mason are in our pack.” Lydia stops and looks at Scott. “That we fought that vampire last year and Scott had to kill it.”

Alison sits forward and asks, “How big is their pack?”

Lydia inhales and for the first time she looks uncertain. “They’re…big. Bigger than we are certainly. I’m not completely sure, Stiles hasn’t been specific, and Derek didn’t meet everyone when he was there. But I think Stiles has mentioned at least six other betas by name. In addition to Erica and Boyd.”

“Size isn’t everything,” Derek states, crossing his arms across his chest.

“But it’s pretty important, if you want my opinion,” Braeden says, smirking as she puts her arm around his waist. “We got it covered.”

Derek rolls his eyes and bumps her head with nose while the rest of the pack chuckle. There’s not a lot of secrets in a wolf pack. “What I mean is, we have a well-respected pack. We have a true alpha and, not to brag, but the Hale name does mean something in the werewolf world. A banshee and a kitsune, and strong, loyal human members,” he says, looking around the room and nodding at each. “And we’re a good, manageable size. People know we’re more than a pack that’s been put together out of strays. We have nothing to apologize for.”

“Well, that’s your allotment of words for the week,” Braeden says, checking her phone that’s started to chirp. “Look, I have to go, but I’m good with it if you guys are good with it. From what I’ve heard, having a stable pack has done what it’s supposed to – stabilized them both.” She give Derek a final squeeze around the neck and they trade a quick kiss before she grabs her coat and leaves, calling out, “Keep me posted!”

“Derek, what _do_ you think?” Scott asks. Derek is technically his second, but Scott often treats him like a co-alpha, asking his opinion, especially when dealing with other packs. And dealing with his uncle.

“I’ve been to see them, you all know that.” He shrugs and looks away from the group and the wolves smell _familyfamilyfamily._

“I want to be okay with it, but what about my Dad?” Allison asks, looking to Scott. “He was also responsible for keeping them in Eichen.”

Scott claps Derek on the shoulder, before going to sit across from Alison. “You know he and Stiles have talked and Stiles says he’s forgiven him. He knows that what happened was driven by Deaton.”

“That’s easy to say when you’re hundreds of miles away,” she says, frowning as she wrings her hands. “But here? And with Peter? I don’t think Peter’s had a heart-to-heart with Dad. He’s more likely to pull out Dad’s heart.”

Lydia moves to sit next to her, taking her hand, and leaning over to kiss her cheek. “Love, if you say no, if you’re uncomfortable at all, it’s no. We’d all understand.”

“I don’t want to keep them out. I don’t want to be the one keeping Derek from seeing his family or keeping Stiles away from his father,” she says, resting her head on Lydia’s shoulder.

Scott reaches over and takes Allison’s free hand. “It’s up to you, Allison, but there’s no pressure. Do you want to check with your father and see how he feels about it?”

“No. No, thank you, you know he’ll say it’s fine. You know him, he’s not about to run and hide. I think he’d want to allow this as a peace offering,” she says and sighs. “Scott, you’re sure this’ll be safe?”

Scott nods, looking around the room, making eye contact with each member of his pack. “They’re not the same as when they left. Peter having his own pack, having a family again – it’s changed them both, for the better. We’ll be safe, I know that. What does everyone else think?” He looks around the room again, getting nods from everyone.

Liam shrugs and says, “Okay, I’m convinced. Let’s do it.”

 

Derek drives with Scott sitting and twitching in the passenger seat.

“Second thoughts?” Derek asks, glancing over. “Why are you worried? You don’t think they’re any danger to us, do you?”

“No, no, not at all,” Scott answers, shaking his head. “It’s just, I haven’t seen Stiles for so long and…talking with him on the phone or sending emails, isn’t the same as seeing him. He sounds the same when we talk, but…guess we’ll see soon enough.”

 

They’re meeting just outside of the city limits, outside of the technical boundaries of the McCall territory. It seems like an odd place for a meeting, in a parking lot that normally hosts the farmer’s market on weekends. But it’s private and there’s not a lot of places for anyone to hide, which makes it a good place for two pack leaders to meet.

Scott and Derek get there first, and get out of the car, leaning against the back bumper. They’re quiet, each lost in their own thoughts.

A few minutes later, a black Land Rover pulls up leaving plenty of room between the two vehicles. The front passenger door opens and Peter gets out, whispering something to the occupants left in the car. He approaches Derek and Scott, smiling broadly. Following him is a tall werewolf with light brown skin and dark blue hair.   

“Alpha McCall, nice to see you again. Thank you for letting us visit your territory,” Peter says, following formal protocol.

“Alpha Hale, welcome to our territory,” Scott answers, just as Derek trained him.  

Peter nods and smiles at the wolf standing behind him. “Scott, Derek, this is Tré, they’re my number two.”

“Nice to meet you,” Scott says and smiles towards Derek. “Peter, you know Derek, of course. My number two.”

Derek smiles and steps forward, hesitating slightly until Peter raises an eyebrow and reaches out pulling him into a hug. “Thank you for letting us visit. It means a lot to Stiles. And to me.”

Back at the car, Stiles throws open the back seat door and calls, “Hey, Peter, can I get a hand here?”

“Of course, dearest,” Peter answers, rolling his eyes. “It’s a car seat, he acts like it’s literally rocket science.”

“It’s one your thousand dollar super extravaganza with unnecessary features car seats, is what it is.” He stands back and waits until Peter pulls the seat out, passing it to Stiles.

“Hey, how are you guys?” Stiles asks, walking back over to the group. “You met Tré? We love Tré! Tré is great and so frigging hot.”

“Tré is also patient and isn’t fazed by the alpha’s mate making inappropriate comments towards them,” Peter says, smiling at Stiles. “And they’re in a relationship with Erica and Boyd, which I’m sure Stiles respects.”

“Totally, I love my happy pack. Speaking of happy packs,” Stiles says, setting the seat down on a picnic table while he unbuckles straps and picks up a wiggling baby, dressed in a red jumper. “This is the newest member of our pack. Meet Erik Michael Hale.”

Scott steps forward, mouth open in a smile. “He’s so cute, Stiles, he’s even cuter than his pictures. How old is he?”

“Three months next Tuesday,” Stiles answers, kissing his son’s head. He looks over at Peter and says, “Wolf, you okay if Scott holds him? You won’t freak out?”

“That’s fine.” He pops his claws and says, “Of course, I get Derek by me while Scott has our child.”

Derek and Scott both startle making Stiles laugh as he moves towards his childhood friend. “He’s such a clown. Here, let me show you how to hold him.”

“Stiles, I’ve held babies before,” Scott says, taking the baby, who yawns and tries to stretch in his blankets. “Cousins, remember?”

“They’re so serious, I told you that, didn’t I, Tré?” Peter leans against the table and watches everyone get comfortable.

“You did,” Tré answers, voice deep and calm as they scan the area.

“My nephew is very attractive, especially when he smiles,” Peter stage whispers. Derek looks up and drops his fangs, with his cheeks turning pink.

Tré nods. “Yes, he is.”

“He used to shave his chest. Thankfully, he stopped doing that.”

“Some people like that,” Tré says, and shrugs. They looks around, never keeping their head still, constantly studying the area around them.

Peter glances at passing traffic and says, “He looks like he could be a model.”

“Yes, he could,” Stiles says, glancing over his shoulder. “Hale family genes are great. Erik is gonna grow up gorgeous.”

“He’s adorable now,” Scott coos at the baby, swaying slowly back and forth. “I like the little beauty mark by his eyebrow.”

“That was my contribution. He also has a cute little mole on his cute little tushie,” Stiles says, brushing a bit of hair off the baby’s forehead. “Of course, Erica tells people we named him after her. But Erik was one of Peter’s uncles.”

“Man, my mom is going to go crazy about him,” Scott says, as he passes the baby to Derek. “She’s already asking Kira when she’s going to have a baby and we just got engaged this year.”

Derek snuggles the baby against his chest, sniffing at his head, eyes closed and radiating happiness. “Are you going to be staying with your dad and Melissa? Back at your old house?”

“No, we’re staying at the new Holiday Inn off highway 36,” Peter answers, stepping forward and running his hand down Stiles’ back. “I think with the four of us, the house may be a little crowded. Besides, Andrew and Melissa don’t need us to interrupt their honeymoon phase.”

“We’re actually planning on taking a little trip while we’re out here; Dad even took some time off and we’re going to the coast for a couple of days.” Stiles looks over and smiles at Peter, saying, “We’re renting a house, it’s right on the water. Should be great. I can’t wait to take Erik into the ocean.”

Derek hands Erik back to Peter, cupping his cheek for one last second. “Sounds good. I hope you’ll get a chance to see some of the pack. I know Lydia wants to see you and Mason’s talked about meeting you; you’re something of a legend in emissary circles.”

Peter and Stiles exchange a quick look before Stiles says, “I’m planning on seeing Lydia; we talked about doing lunch some place. Probably some place where we can pick up an outfit for Erik, she mentioned wanting to dress him in something other than t-shirts and khakis.”

“Do you think you’ll have time to see the others? Allison and Kira?” Scott asks.

Stiles shrugs. “I’m not sure. It might be a little awkward and we are kind of booked. And we told the guys at home we’d be gone a week.”

“Well, sure, do whatever you’re doing with your Dad, but any time you want to see any of the pack – including me of course, we’ll make time.”

Peter takes a quick look at his watch and says, “Thank you for your hospitality, I’m sure we’ll be in touch this week while we’re here. But we do need to get going, we’re meeting Andrew at the station. I think he wants to show off his grandson to his deputies.”

“Sure, we don’t want to keep you, go see your Dad. Just remember, if there’s anything that you want while you’re here, pick up the phone or text or whatever.” Scott gives his lopsided smile, looking like a real alpha, although maybe his eyes are a little shiny when he moves to hug Stiles, long and hard. They bury their faces in each other’s necks and when they separate Stiles wipes his eyes as well.

“I’ll give you a call later and we can figure out when to get together this week. And thanks, Scotty, thanks for making us welcome here.” He smiles and takes Peter’s hand. “But for now, we have everything we need.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who read this and commented or left kudos. Sorry there's not more bloodshed and murder, but there's a little death.


End file.
